


DinCobb Valentine’s Bingo 2021

by Fledgling



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Attack, Assassination Attempt(s), Biting, Blood and Injury, Canadian Shack, Canon-Typical Violence, Come Marking, Crash Landing, Cursed Armor!Din, Curses, Dark Magic, DinCobb Valentine’s Bingo 2021, Dirty Talk, Dragon Shifter!Cobb, Fae!Grogu, Fake Dating, Helping the Other With an Injury, Knight Din Djarin, Knotting, M/M, Magic, Meeting the Parents, Mentions of Slavery, Nesting, Oral Sex, Pining, Prince Cobb Vanth, Scent Marking, Sharing a Bed, Warlock!Gideon, aquarium dates, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29433111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledgling/pseuds/Fledgling
Summary: My entries for the DinCobb Valentine’s Bingo 2021!Chapter 1: Royalty AU/Bodyguard AU; Prince Cobb the Dragonslayer is tired of getting marriage proposals from lords hungry to increase their status. Especially since the only person he wants is his personal knight, Sir Din Djarin the Dragonslayer.Chapter 2: Amnesia/Cuddling for Warmth/Helping the Other With an Injury/Canadian Shack; Din wakes up with missing memories, a crashed ship, and an injured marshal.Chapter 3: Fake Dating; Cobb asks Din to pose as his boyfriend while his mother is in town visiting. The fact that Din has had a crush on Cobb for years now is just the icing on the cake.Chapter 4: Fantasy AU: Dragon Shifter!Cobb helps Din break the curse placed on him by the Warlock Gideon that has bound his soul to his armor.Chapter 5: Fantasy AU Bonus Fic: Dragon Shifter!Cobb goes through his rut with the help of a now human Din sometime after the events of chapter 4.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 26
Kudos: 112
Collections: DinCobb Valentine's Bingo 2021





	1. Royalty AU/Bodyguard AU

**Author's Note:**

> Whooo! I am so excited for it to finally be time to post these! A huge shoutout to the wonderful people of the DinCobb discord who have been inspiring influences throughout the whole event. Happy Valentine’s Day to all!

Cobb groaned, burying his face in his hands. Another letter recieved, another lord proposing that Prince Cobb Vanth the Dragonslayer should meet with him so that they may discuss Cobb marrying one of his many daughters. It was the seventh letter he’d received in as many weeks, and Cobb was wondering if it would be worth it to run away and start a new life as a simple farmer somewhere in the countryside.

A chuckle behind him had him turning in his chair, and he glared without any real heat at the suit of armor that stood by the door to his room.

“I know you’re smiling under there, Din.”

The knight shrugged, neither confirming or denying the statement. He didn’t need to; he had been Cobb’s personal guard for seven years, and Cobb knew him as well as he knew himself. Sir Din Djarin the Dragonslayer—it was a title they shared just between the two of them, and the thought always sent a pleasant curl of heat through Cobb. It was a well-earned title, the two of them having been the ones to finally end the krayt dragon’s century long reign of terror over the land. The dagger Cobb had had made from one of its fangs never left his hip; a matching one sat on Din’s hip.

After a moment Din moved, crossing the room to stand beside Cobb. He stared down at the letter, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

“You would think that after the first set of refusals, they’d stop trying.”

“They’re not that smart,” Cobb sighed, reaching for a piece of paper to begin his own letter. His hand stopped just short of it, and he stared out the window in front of him. It was a beautiful day, bright blue sky only occasionally broken by puffy white clouds.

He rose from his seat, turning to face Din. The knight said nothing, tilting his head to the side.

“Walk with me?” Cobb asked. He didn’t need to—he could have simply left, and Din would have followed him more faithfully than his own shadow. He liked to ask though; Din was his friend as much as his knight, and he tried to make sure Din knew it.

“Lead the way, my prince.”

Another pleasant curl of heat, one that Cobb dutifully ignored. He knew what it meant, of course, had known for the past two years.

He was in love with Din.

Cobb led them through the halls of the castle, their footsteps echoing off the stone. How Din managed to walk so quietly in full plate armor was beyond Cobb, the knight’s footsteps barely louder than his own. He didn’t know much about what Din’s life had been like before he had sworn himself to Cobb’s service—Din didn’t like to talk about it, and Cobb wasn’t about to make him uncomfortable for the sake of his own curiosity. He had gathered bits and pieces of knowledge over the years, from the way he carried himself to the way he held his weapons, and even the way he had spoken to the Tuskens when they had worked with them to defeat the krayt dragon. Cobb’s first guess was mercenary, with assassin as a close second.

It didn’t matter in the end. Din was here, now, as Cobb’s silver shadow.

Cobb led them out into the gardens, stopping a few paces from the door and tilting his head to the sky, eyes closed. He took a deep breath, some of the tension leaving him.

They followed a familiar path, the same one Cobb always took through the gardens. Passed the roses, passed the topiaries, not stopping until they were at the small pond in the corner of the garden furthest from the castle. Cobb undid his cloak pin, pulling the bright red cloak from his shoulders and laying it across the soft grass under the single tree that overlooked the pond. This deep into spring it was in full bloom, soft pink blossoms covering its branches. Cobb lay down on his cloak, staring at the sky through the tree. Din sat beside him without a word, used to the routine by now. After a moment his hands rose and he removed his helmet, setting it gently on the ground at his side. Cobb’s gaze immediately shifted from the sky to Din; the knight so rarely removed his helmet that it was a treat each time Cobb could see the soft brown eyes, the softer brown curls.

Silence fell over them as Cobb stared, recommitting Din’s face to memory. If the knight was made uncomfortable by his stare, he never said anything about it. A light breeze rustled the tree above them and sent a shower of pink petals falling from above. Din tilted his head up to watch them, and Cobb’s breath caught in his throat. A few of the petals settled on Din, catching in his hair and on his pauldrons. He made no move to brush them aside, closing his eyes as a grin tugged the corners of his lips up.

Cobb wanted to kiss him.

He didn’t.

Cobb grunted as Din’s sword clashed with his own, the sound of steel meeting steel loud in the empty training ground. It was nearing dusk, and all the other knights were going about their nightly duties, caring for armor and weapons, tending horses and hounds. It was the only time Cobb and Din liked to spar, away from the eyes of others. It was just one of the many traits they shared, a deep dislike of being watched.

Cobb lunged forward, the tip of his sword easily blocked by the flat of Din’s blade. In a real fight, Cobb would have no chance; he had seen Din fight, seen the way he moved as if the sword was just a natural part of his body, an extra limb. Cobb was good with a sword, but Din was better, evidenced by the way he had Cobb disarmed and flat on his back in the dirt a few seconds later.

Cobb stared down the length of the sword hovering just an inch from his throat, following it up, up Din’s arm to his shoulder, his neck, his face. Cobb felt no fear, despite how undoubtedly sharp the sword was. Din would never hurt him, and not just because he was sworn to protect Cobb with his life.

The sword moved away and a hand was held out instead. Cobb took it, letting Din pull him up with so little effort it made him dizzy. There was so much power within Din, power and elegance and sturdiness and a thousand other things that Cobb had ascribed to Din over the years.

“Once more?” Cobb asked, retrieving his sword from the ground by his feet.

Din looked to the sky, then nodded.

“Once more.”

Cobb grinned, adjusting his stance. Their swords met, again and again, and Cobb reveled in the way his blood sang in his veins. It was like dancing, the way they fought, all careful footwork and moving with your partner, anticipating each turn, each twist a beat before it happened. Cobb realized that he was smiling, a slightly feral thing that was halfway to a snarl. Din’s face was a mask of stoic concentration, but Cobb knew better, could see the way his eyes danced, his lips twitched.

Cobb flicked his wrist, sending Din’s sword skittering across the dirt. Din didn’t stop, ducking around Cobb’s sword and closing in on him. A hand grabbed his elbow, thumb pressing into a sensitive spot that had Cobb’s arm going limp, his own sword falling from his hand. Din kept moving, his other hand finding Cobb’s shoulder as a foot hooked around his ankle, and they were falling. Cobb’s back hit the dirt once more, and this time Din followed him, straddling his waist and gripping his wrists, pinning them on either side of his head. Cobb’s pulse thudded loudly in his ears, and he licked his lips, watching as Din’s eyes caught the movement and followed it, his pupils widening a fraction.

Well, wasn’t that something?

Cobb hated court politics.

He shifted in his seat, trying not to look as bored as he was. The visiting diplomat—Cobb hardly remembered where he was from, Nar Shaddaa perhaps—had been talking for over an hour, his nasally voice cracking every few minutes. He glanced around the room, at his brothers and sisters, his mother, all of them wearing expressions to match his.

He wished that Din didn’t have to stand behind him. There was no way to look at him without turning in his seat, and that would attract too much attention. He could feel Din behind him though, and focused on that, his mind easily supplying him with the image of Din, his armor shining in the light coming through the windows. His mind wandered without his input, considering the broadness of Din’s shoulders, the taper of his waist, the curve of his thighs.

Cobb grit his teeth, forcing himself to refocus on the diplomat. It didn’t matter—his mind greedily latched onto the more enticing subject that was Sir Din Djarin, feeding him more images: the way his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword; the way he stood with his feet spread to ground him, always a moment away from leaping into action; the way his brown eyes warmed whenever he looked a Cobb.

Cobb’s daydreaming was broken by the sound of metal suddenly shifting behind him. He began to turn, only to have a flash of silver stop the movement. A crossbow bolt bounced off of Din’s cuirass, clattering to the floor a few feet away.

A crossbow bolt that had been aimed for Cobb’s heart.

The court broke into a flurry of panic, the other knights scrambling to catch up with what was happening. Some distant part of Cobb’s mind not occupied with the fact that someone had just tried to kill him preened at the thought of his knight being the one to spot the assassin—the rest of his mind was too busy with the fact that _someone had just tried to assassinate him._

Din spun on his heel and grabbed Cobb by the elbow, hoisting him from his throne.

“You need to get out of here,” he said, just loud enough for Cobb to hear him over the sounds of panic. Another bolt, this one pinging off of Din’s pauldron.

“This way,” Cobb said, taking Din’s hand and leading him behind the throne dais. He stepped behind a tapestry, pressing his palm to one of the stones in the wall. Part of the wall swung inwards, and Cobb stepped through it, his grip on Din never faltering.

Din shut the door behind them, darkness overtaking them. Cobb’s free hand found the wall and he let that guide them.

“Are you alright?” he asked after a moment.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I’m not the one that just took two crossbow bolts.”

Din hummed, “The bolts didn’t penetrate my armor.”

“That’s good.”

The panic was starting to set in, the fear that someone was trying to kill him—and why him? He was fairly far down the line of succession, he had no hand in any new taxes or laws or treaties.

“Wait,” Din hissed, pulling on his hand to get him to stop.

Cobb froze midstep. He didn’t ask why, trusted that whatever it was, Din had it under control. After a few seconds he heard it, the soft scrape of leather on stone. Din’s hands found his shoulders, moving them so that Cobb was fully behind Din’s armored bulk. Cobb’s hand strayed to the dagger at his hip, his fingers wrapping around the hilt. The sound got closer, and he could make out the blur of movement as the darkness shifted, announcing a third person in the tunnel.

Din dashed forward, slamming the bulk of himself into the newcomer. There was a hiss, and something that sounded like a swear in a language Cobb didn’t understand. Metal scraped against metal; something heavy thudded against the stone; Din hissed in pain.

Cobb didn’t think as he pulled the dragon fang dagger from its sheathe. He was near blind in the dark, only able to make out the vague shape of Din and the assassin; Din's was a shape he had imprinted into his memory however, and so it was easy for him to slip around and plunge the dagger into the assassin’s neck. There was a garble of noise, something that was probably supposed to be words, and then the body went still.

Cobb pulled his dagger free, and flinched when Din’s hand found his bicep. Gauntleted fingers trailed down his arm and found his hand, squeezing once. Cobb sighed, leading them further down the tunnel. They traveled for a minute more before they came to the end, and Cobb pushed the door open. He blinked as his eyes tried to adjust to the sudden change in light; the tunnel had led them into the library, the large windows letting daylight spill in.

The door closed behind him and Cobb turned to look at Din. His eyes immediately focused on the red dripping down his arm.

“Din, you—”

“It’s fine,” Din assured. “It looks worse than it is.”

Cobb frowned, sheathing his dagger and stepping forward, taking Din’s arm in both hands. The blood was leaking from under his pauldron, a sluggish stream of red that Cobb couldn’t take his eyes off of.

“Come on, let’s get that looked at.”

Din didn’t move.

“I need to get you somewhere safe.”

Cobb grinned despite himself.

“The safest place for me is at your side. Regardless of where that may be.”

Din stared at him. After a moment he nodded, and Cobb led him from the library to the physician’s ward. It wasn’t until they were there, and the physician was beginning to stitch up the cut that Cobb realized Din had never let go of his hand.

Cobb stared across the surface of the pond, watching the moon’s reflection waver as the wind stirred the water. He tucked his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and setting his chin on top. Fireflies floated through the air around him, skimming the pond’s surface and twisting around each other in a dance only they knew. He was almost jealous of them and how carefree they were.

Near silent footsteps caught his attention, and his brow furrowed when he saw Din approaching him. He was out of his armor, dressed in a soft tunic and worn leather boots. Cobb’s fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and touch, to pull Din into his arms and see if he felt as soft as he looked, from his tunic to his hair to his lips.

Din stared down at him for a moment, head tilted to the side. It had a different effect without the helmet, his hair brushing against his forehead.

“May I join you, my prince?”

Cobb nodded, scooting over on his cloak and patting the space beside him. Din sat beside him, close enough that their arms brushed.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Din asked after a moment, his voice quiet.

“Shouldn’t you?”

Din shrugged, “I don’t sleep a lot.”

Cobb hummed, filing the information away amongst all the other tiny bits of information he had learned about Din over the years.

“What is keeping you awake?” Din asked, turning to look at Cobb.

Cobb’s face twisted into a grimace.

“My mother has decided that if I can’t choose a spouse, she will choose for me. I have a week to make a decision on my own. If I haven’t made one by then, well,” Cobb trailed off with a sigh.

“Do you not wish to be married that badly?”

“It’s not marriage itself that’s the problem,” Cobb hissed. “It’s the fact I can’t marry who I wish.”

“You can’t?”

Cobb glanced at Din from the corner of his eye. The knight seemed genuinely confused, though there was a ghost of something sad behind his eyes.

“I...the person I love is not nobility. Nor do I know if they feel the same way I do.”

He had a guess, of course. All the little things that had accumulated over the years they had been together, the things that existed just between the two of them. He was reminded, suddenly, of the night they defeated the krayt dragon, the sudden desperation in Din’s voice as he made Cobb swear that he would live, no matter what happened. He had charged into the dragon’s mouth moments later, taking Cobb’s heart with him.

“Does it matter if they are nobility?” Din asked.

“It would benefit the country,” Cobb said automatically, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“But is it obligation or law?”

Cobb blinked. Thought about it.

“Obligation,” he settled on after a minute of wracking his brain.

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it so much.”

Cobb scoffed, “You say that, but you don’t have to deal with the court judging your very existence.”

“I can stab them for you, if you’d like.”

Cobb laughed, Din’s sincerity pulling the sound from him. The wind picked up, tugging at the last pink blossoms still attached to the tree. A few petals scattered around them, and one of the full blossoms broke loose, landing in Din’s lap. He picked it up, twirling it between his fingers. Cobb watched him, admiring the way the moonlight caught on his face, highlighted the stray strands of silver in his hair. Din turned suddenly, and Cobb froze as the hand holding the flower approached his face. Din tucked the flower behind his ear, his fingers moving around to the back of his head and caressing the short hair there.

“Din?” Cobb whispered.

“Tell me,” Din whispered back, “tell me I’m not wrong about this.”

Cobb let his eyes fall closed as he leaned in, brushing his lips against Din’s. They were just as soft as Cobb had imagined, and his hand came up to cup Din’s jaw as he leaned further into him.

“You’re not wrong,” Cobb mumbled against his lips.

Din made a sound almost as if he had been wounded, and he used the hand on Cobb’s head to pull him into another kiss. Cobb’s other hand found Din’s shoulder, trailing up his neck to his hair, relishing the shiver it pulled from him. He buried his fingers in brown curls, just as soft as they looked, and Cobb felt like he could cry.

“Din. _Din_.”

“I’m here,” Din assured.

Cobb wrapped his arms around Din’s shoulders, pulling him close. Din’s hands found his hips as their lips met, and Cobb sighed. They pulled back after a moment, forehead’s pressed together.

“Din. My most wonderful knight,” Cobb sighed, “will you allow me to court you?”

Din grinned.

“Yes.”


	2. Amnesia/Cuddling for Warmth/Helping the Other With an Injury/Canadian Shack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence and depictions of character injuries, animal injuries, and blood. Also contains mentions of slavery.

Din came to consciousness with a gasp. The first thing his brain registered was the cold seeping into his flightsuit; the second was the darkness, deep enough that he had to switch his helmet to night vision to see even just a few inches in front of his own face.

Why had he been unconscious?

Din rolled his head, taking stock of his surroundings. He was in the cockpit of his ship—several of the consoles were dark, and a few more were shooting out sparks. The view outside was obscured by something covering the transparisteel—snow. There was snow outside.

Din sighed, unclipping his seatbelt and standing. He had crashed, that much was obvious, and he was thankful that the ship was at least horizontal. Having to climb through his own ship because it was stuck at a seventy-degree angle was an adventure he had no desire to repeat.

Once standing, Din took a minute to take stock of himself. Other than a pounding head and a belt of pain where the seatbelt had kept him in his seat, he was alright physically. Mentally there was a gap in his memories, the time between him waking up here and getting the call from Cobb—

Cobb. _Cobb._

“Kriff,” Din scrambled to the cockpit door. It was jammed part way open, and Din wrapped both hands around it and yanked, metal scraping against metal as he widened the gap enough for him to step through.

“Cobb?” Din called into the darkness. Where had he been?

The cargo hold; weapons locker.

Din dashed to the ladder, climbing halfway down and dropping the rest of the way.

“Cobb?” he called again, wincing as he looked around the hold. Most everything was still secured, straps and mag-locks doing their jobs. A few of the smaller boxes hadn’t been so lucky, slipping loose of their moorings and tumbling across the floor. Din turned towards the weapons locker; the doors were open, Cobb sprawled out on the floor in front of it.

Din was at his side in an instant, his knees hitting the floor. One of his hands found the marshal’s wrist, the other his chest. A pulse beat weakly under his thumb, and the hand on his chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm.

Alive. He was alive.

Din exhaled harshly, beginning to check the marshal over for injuries. Nothing appeared broken, his limbs at their proper angles, no bones sticking out.

Cobb groaned, and Din’s hands froze. The marshal flinched, the motion followed by a shiver that wracked his whole body. Din swore, shuffling back and grabbing a blanket from his cot. If he was cold in his flightsuit, then the man from the desert world more lightly dressed than he was would be freezing.

Din laid the blanket over him, tucking it around him as best he could. After a second he yanked his cloak off over his head, laying it over top of the blanket as well.

“You’re going to be alright Cobb,” Din said, hoping he sounded less worried than he felt. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Cobb groaned again, and Din switched his gaze to his face. His heart plummeted into his stomach, and then rocketed up to his throat. A diagonal cut ran across the marshal’s face, from the right side of his forehead, across both his eyes to below his left temple. Blood oozed from it, pooling around his eyes and dripping down each side of his head. It almost looked like the marshal was crying blood.

“Dank farrik,” Din hissed, rising to his feet. A thousand thoughts were rampaging through his head, and he took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing.

Right. Medkit first.

Din jogged to the crate he kept his medical supplies in, thankful that it was still in its rightful place. He ripped the lid off, digging through its contents. Medkit, extra bacta, emergency blanket. Din tucked everything under his arm, not bothering to put the lid back on as he dug through another crate, pulling out a sealed canteen with purified water in it. Din returned to Cobb’s side, frowning as he noticed the shivering had increased.

Din knelt down next to Cobb’s head, setting everything down around him. He ripped his gloves off and opened the medkit, rifling through it until he found a bottle of antimicrobial cleanser. He spread it over his hands, rubbing them together until the substance dried. He dug through the kit again, pulling out several sealed gauze pads and ripping one open. He broke the seal on the canteen and pressed the gauze over the canteen’s mouth, flipping it upside down and letting some of the water soak into the gauze. He flipped it right side up and set it to the side, far enough that he wouldn’t accidentally knock it over, and began trying to wipe the blood from Cobb’s eyes.

It took three of the gauze pads to get the blood cleaned up, though the cut still bled sluggishly. Din tossed the pads to the side, reaching for a new one and one of the tubes of bacta. He squeezed the gel onto the pad, holding Cobb’s chin with his free hand as he began to apply it to the cut, starting on right side. Cobb whined, though he didn’t wake up, for which Din was grateful—the first thing he would do upon waking up was open his eyes to look around, and that wouldn’t end well.

Din used half the tube of bacta by the time he was done, and he opened two more of the gauze pads, laying them over Cobb’s eyes. A third pad he cut in two with a pair of scissors from the kit, placing each half over an opposite end of the cut. Din sighed, rolling his shoulders as he grabbed a roll of gauze from the kit, and he began the process of wrapping it around Cobb’s head to keep the pads in place.

It was as he taped the gauze in place that Cobb woke up, coughing harshly. Din placed a hand on his chest when he tried to sit up, the other snatching his hand when he raised it to touch the bandage wrapped around his eyes.

“You’re safe, Cobb,” Din said, trying to sound reassuring. “Just stay down for a moment more.”

“What,” Cobb coughed again, “what happened?”

Din tried to claw through the dark haze of his memories, clenching his jaw when he came up empty. He wasn’t even sure how he had known Cobb was on his ship in the first place.

“We crashed,” he answered; at least that he knew for certain.

“Crashed…crashed where?”

Din frowned. It was a good question, and yet another he had no answer to. Did he tell Cobb that? That would only make him panic, wouldn’t it? He was saved from having to answer by Cobb gasping as another full body shiver shook him.

“Cold,” Cobb rasped.

Din sighed, trying once more to get his mind to focus.

“I’m going to help you sit up, alright? Don’t try to stand yet.”

Cobb nodded slowly. Din slid his arm under Cobb’s back, frowning at how cold the floor was. He needed to get Cobb off the floor, somewhere he could start getting warm. His other hand gripped Cobb’s shoulder, and Cobb sat up, his hand rising to cradle the side of his head. His fingers traced the line of gauze, and Din let him.

“You cut your head,” Din said, cutting off the inevitable question. “It—your eyes are injured.”

Cobb tensed under his hands.

“My…my eyes?”

Din nodded, then bit back a curse when he realized Cobb couldn’t see it.

“Yes.”

Cobb’s hand dropped to his side. His whole posture was too stiff, too still; each breath he took was measured, purposeful.

“I’ve applied bacta to it,” Din continued. “Tomorrow I’ll be able to get a better idea of how much damage there is to the eyes themselves and how much is superficial.”

“We don’t have that much time,” Cobb snapped, “we have to catch her!”

Catch her. Catch who?

A flash of memory. The call: Cobb, desperation in his voice, asking Din for his help with tracking someone down. A face: Trandoshan, female, heavily scarred on one side. 

Din sighed. It was progress, but it wasn’t enough.

“We’re going to have to wait on repairs anyway. Now come on,” Din grabbed the canteen he had used earlier, taking Cobb’s hand and guiding it to it. The skin-on-skin contact sent a jolt through him—he had forgotten he wasn’t wearing his gloves. Cobb took the canteen and lifted it to his lips, taking the slow, careful sips Din had come to associate with people who lived in areas where water was scarce. Din watched him drink—couldn’t help it, his eyes drawn to the movements of his throat, the way his hand wrapped around the canteen.

“What kind of repairs are we talking here?” Cobb asked, lowering the canteen to his lap.

“I don’t know for certain; I haven’t done a full check yet.”

Cobb made a shooing motion with his hand.

“You go on and do that; I’ll be fine here for a bit.”

Din shook his head before again remembering Cobb couldn’t see it.

“We need to get you off the floor,” he said, reaching his arm around Cobb’s back once more. To his surprise the man flinched away from the touch, a quick, sharp movement that seemed instinctual rather than intentional.

“Sorry,” Cobb muttered.

“Don’t be; I should have warned you.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” The words were so quiet Din wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear them at all. Din wondered, not for the first time, what kind of past Cobb Vanth carried with him. What kind of past had caused the scar on his temple; what kind of past had him flinching from any unexpected touch.

“Let’s try that again,” Din said. “I’m gonna grab your shoulder and your waist, alright? You can put your arms around me too.”

Cobb nodded once. Din wrapped his hand around his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around the marshal’s waist. After a moment one of Cobb’s arms found his back, his hand gripping Din’s hip. Din tried not to focus too much on the steady pressure there, the way Cobb’s fingers idly stroked the fabric of his flightsuit. What he did focus on was the lack of heat coming from his hand—in fact, there was a chill spreading out from under his palm.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

They moved as one, Cobb leaning into Din as they stood, his temple resting against Din’s pauldron. The blanket and Din’s cloak fell into a heap, and Din kicked them to the side. Din pressed lightly on Cobb’s shoulder, urging him forward. Cobb went with hesitant steps, the arm not wrapped around Din held out in front of him. Din opened his mouth to reassure him that he wouldn’t let him run in to anything, but something kept the words trapped in his throat.

“Cot’s just to your left,” Din said instead.

Cobb nodded, shuffling over until his knee hit the edge of the cot. He leaned forward, his hand waving around until it found the cot as well. He lowered himself onto it, the motion more of a controlled fall than an actual motion to sit. It took Din a moment to realize his hands were still wrapped around Cobb, and he let go, watching as Cobb tilted until he was lying on the cot.

Din let himself look Cobb over for a second longer before retracing his steps, swiping his cloak and blanket off the floor, grabbing the emergency blanket as well. Cobb was already beginning to shiver again when Din returned to his side, and Din stamped down on the urge to throw the blanket over Cobb himself, bundle him up and tuck him in, warm and safe.

“Here,” he said, placing the edge of the blanket in Cobb’s hand. Cobb took it wordlessly, throwing it over himself and shifting around until he was fully covered. Din unfolded the emergency blanket and laid it over top of the other, making sure to rustle the fabric to not startle Cobb. Cobb’s face pinched in an expression Din couldn’t identify, and after a second he sighed and shook his head slightly.

“Go do what you need to do,” Cobb said, a weak grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll be here.”

Din nodded, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at the thought of leaving Cobb’s side. He threw his cloak back over his shoulders as he walked, making his way to another storage crate. He lifted the lid and pulled a comlink from within, settling the lid back in place. He swiped the canteen from the floor as he returned to Cobb, setting it on the tiny shelf beside the bed. He took Cobb’s hand—and he still hadn’t put his gloves back on, the feel of Cobb’s cold, calloused skin demanding his attention as he guided his hand to the canteen.

“Water,” Din said by way of explanation.

Cobb nodded, and Din turned his hand over, setting the comlink in his palm and curling his fingers around it.

“Comlink. It’s connected to my helmet.”

Another nod, and, “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Din squeezed his hand before letting go. He turned and walked to the ramp on the left side of the ship, retrieving his gloves and sliding them on as he did. He pressed the button to lower the ramp, unsurprised when there was no response. He sighed, opening the panel for the manual release under the button. He grasped the lever inside, pulling it down with a grunt of effort. The ramp groaned as it lowered, and Din was met with a blast of cold that had him hissing.

With one last look towards the sleeping compartment, Din stepped out into the dark. Immediately the wind bit into him, slivers of ice pinging off of his armor. He scanned the area as he took slow steps down the ramp, right hand lingering near his blaster pistol. Trees met him in every direction, their trunks thick and branches heavy with frost. A glance skyward showed two moons hanging in the sky, close to each other in size. Din grit his teeth and turned, bracing himself for the worst as he looked at the _Razor Crest II_.

The ship’s impact and subsequent skid had left a dark smear of uprooted trees and soil in its wake. Mud covered the bottom of the ship, tracks of it racing across the side in places. Din began to pace the length of the ship, heading in the direction of the cockpit. The snow reached up to his knees, the cold beginning to seep into Din’s legs as he shoved his way through.

As his eyes tracked across the ship, his mind wandered back to the sleeping compartment and the man lying inside of it. The marshal often occupied his thoughts, had ever since they had defeated the krayt dragon together. The man was magnetic, and Din was nothing if not a man encased in metal. It wasn’t just that though—it was the sincere way he cared for his people, the way he hadn’t shied away from fighting the dragon head on, the way he had honored their deal without a single complaint.

It was also the way he handled a weapon. The way his belt hung low on his hips. The way the dual suns made his hair look like it was a flame tossing in the wind. The way he smiled, the way he laughed, the way he—

Din stopped, his legs rooted by the sudden realization that he was, perhaps, in love with Marshal Cobb Vanth of Mos Pelgo.

A sudden gust of wind sent him back on his way. It took Din several minutes to complete his circle around the ship. By some miracle it was in one piece—scraped and scuffed, certainly, but solid, no cracks or holes in the hull. Din stepped up onto the ramp, then froze as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

Something was watching him.

Din turned slowly, his eyes scanning the tree line. Movement, to his left, and Din focused on a shape as it materialized out of the snow. It was a creature he had never seen before, feline with smooth white fur and two long tendrils coming from its shoulders. It was also much larger than Din, longer than he was tall and broad across its shoulders. It snarled, and Din wrapped his hand around his blaster pistol, tugging it from its holster as he began backing up the ramp.

A low growl from his right, and Din twisted his head to see two more of the creatures, smaller than the first but still as large as Din, slinking forward. Din stopped, his heart speeding up in his chest. One he could handle; three was going to be more difficult. And it would take time for the ramp to raise all the way, especially using the manual release. If they got on the ship—if they got to _Cobb_ —

“Kriff,” Din groaned.

He’d have to fight them out here then.

Din raised his blaster pistol and fired at the biggest of the three. The first shot found its shoulder; the second its neck. It howled in pain, charging at Din. A third shot went through its left eye, and it toppled into the snow. Din spun to face the other two just in time for one of them to leap at him. Each foot had two claws at the end, and they scraped against his chestplate as the creature barreled into him, knocking him off the ramp and onto his back. The air left him in a rush, and he rolled to the side as the creature leapt again, landing where he had been lying a second before. He raised his blaster pistol and pulled the trigger twice: the first shot sprayed snow into the air, the second grazing the creature’s flank as it darted to the side.

The comlink in his helmet buzzed to life as Din took two more shots, one thudding into the creature’s hindleg, the other spraying up more snow.

“Mando? Mando, what’s going on?”

Din didn’t answer, taking another shot. This one hit the creature in the center of its chest, and it crumpled into the snow. Din spun around, searching for the third one.

“Mando?”

Din couldn’t ignore the desperate tone in Cobb’s voice.

“The wildlife doesn’t appreciate us crashing in their—”

His sentence was cut off with a scream as a sharp, searing pain bloomed along the back of his left thigh. He stumbled forward, twisting to see the third creature. He fired at it as it charged him, two shots sinking into its shoulder before it barreled into him. Din’s back met the ground again, and this time to creature had him pinned, its teeth knocking against his helmet. Din lifted his blaster pistol and pressed it to the side of the creature’s head, pressing the trigger. The creature slumped to the side, and Din laid in the snow, staring at the sky as he caught his breath.

“Mando! Hey, partner, you gotta let me know you’re okay.”

Din groaned in response. He rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself onto his hands and knees, hissing as the wound pulled with the motion. He stood, his left leg immediately giving out and sending him crashing back into the snow. He tried again, his leg shaking as he began limping back towards the ramp. Blood was running down the back of his leg, each movement agitating the wound and sending more blood trickling down.

He made it inside the ship before he collapsed once more, groaning as his knees made contact with the metal floor.

“Mando?”

Hesitant footsteps, and Din tilted his head to see Cobb standing just outside the sleeping compartment, both blankets wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak and head turned in Din’s general direction. Din exhaled sharply and forced himself to stand, grabbing the handle for the manual release and raising it, the ramp slowly lifting back into place.

“I...” Din wasn’t sure what to say.

Cobb took another hesitant step forward, one hand held out in front of him, the other keeping the blankets around his shoulders.

“You’re injured.”

It wasn’t a question.

Din limped towards the medkit still sitting on the ground, Cobb following the sound of his footsteps with his head. Din slumped to the floor, unsure where to begin. He couldn’t see any part of the wound no matter how he twisted his leg, and he tugged his gloves off again, tracing the wound with his fingers. The cut was almost the same length as his hand, and with a hiss Din tried to determine how deep it was.

“Mando,” Cobb was at his side, his hand grazing Din’s pauldron, “how can I help?”

Din swallowed, staring at the blood now covering the tips of his fingers.

“Can you—it's on the back of my thigh. I can’t really...”

“I gotcha, partner. Just tell me what to do.”

Din nodded, taking Cobb’s hand and tugging gently. It was still cold, and Din felt a fresh wave of concern for the other man.

“Sit.”

Cobb sat, his legs folded under him. Din began digging through the medkit, pulling out the items they would need: the roll of gauze, bacta gel, gauze pads, antimicrobial cleanser. He sat them all to the side save for the cleanser, which he handed to Cobb.

“Pour that onto your hands and rub until it’s dried.”

Cobb chuckled as he opened the bottle and poured some onto his hands.

“Not my first time having to patch someone up, don’t worry.”

Din hummed, undoing the straps on his thigh guard.

“I’ve done plenty of patch jobs on myself over the years too,” Cobb continued.

“So you've always been a troublemaker then?” Din asked, setting the thigh guard aside and starting on the other one.

“Of course.”

The second thigh guard joined the first, and Din swallowed as his hands found the button of his pants. He knew Cobb couldn’t see him, and yet the thought of taking his pants off in front of him was daunting. It had to be done though, and Din steadfastly ignored the heat that crawled up his neck as he pushed his pants and underwear to his knees. Din rolled onto his stomach, his unarmored side bumping into Cobb’s knee.

“Can you,” Din cleared his throat, “can you tell how deep it is by feel?”

Cobb tilted his head to the side, his hand reaching out. Din took it, guiding it to the top edge of the cut. Cobb grazed his fingertips along its length, wincing sympathetically. He pressed more firmly along the edge, and Din grit his teeth, crossing his arms and pillowing his helmeted head against them. Underneath the pain was a shock of sensation caused by the feeling of Cobb’s cold fingers trailing along his bare skin. When was the last time anyone had touched him without the barriers of cloth and beskar?

“It doesn’t seem deep as far as I can tell, though it’s pretty bloody,” Cobb said after a few seconds. “Either way, I don’t think doing stitches blind is a good idea.”

“Right,” Din sighed.

Din grabbed one of the gauze pads and ripped it open, handing it to Cobb. He’d have to remember to restock his kit whenever they were done with...whatever they were doing. Din hissed, a mix of pain as Cobb wiped blood from his thigh and frustration with himself.

“Sorry,” Cobb muttered.

“Don’t be,” Din said as he ripped open another gauze pad. He opened the bacta tube and spread the gel onto the pad.

“This one has bacta on it,” he explained as Cobb took it.

“Alright.”

Din forced himself to stay still as Cobb smeared the bacta along the cut. Cobb’s other hand was resting on the back of his knee, his thumb idly stroking the sliver of skin above where Din had pushed his pants to. He was shivering; Din could feel it in the slight tremors running through his hands. Din ripped open one last pad, handing it and the roll of gauze to Cobb. The gauze pad was laid over the wound, and Cobb began wrapping it.

“You’re going to have to rest a while, let this start healing a bit,” Cobb mumbled as he worked.

“I’ve still got to start on repairs. The exterior of the ship is fine, but there’s an internal issue somewhere.”

Cobb huffed, “Yeah, and how’re you planning on finding it when you can’t walk?”

Din didn’t have an answer to that—at least, not one that wasn’t just ignore the pain and work through it. He had a feeling Cobb wouldn’t appreciate that answer.

“Come on, then. Guess we’re going to be sharing the bed.”

Din tensed.

“That’s...it’s not exactly made to fit two people.”

Cobb shrugged, “Well, the other option is sleeping on the floor, and that seems like a pretty terrible idea.”

Din couldn’t argue with that. He rolled onto his back, pulling his underwear back up. He started to pull his pants up, then hissed as it rubbed at the bandage. Cobb’s hand reached out, finding Din’s bicep and wrapping around it.

“Easy there. Need a hand?”

Din swallowed. Any thoughts involving Cobb and his pants were chased away by the coldness of Cobb’s hand. Din covered it with his own, frowning.

“You haven’t warmed up at all.”

Cobb shrugged again, “Well, I’m not exactly used to this kind of cold. Guess I should have been better prepared, huh?”

Din nodded as another memory resurfaced. Landing just outside of Mos Pelgo; Cobb, bag thrown over his shoulder, thanking Din for helping him; another face, Twi’lek, also female; taking off, punching coordinates into the hyperdrive.

Din sighed, leaning forward and starting to remove his boots.

“Mando?”

Din glanced at Cobb. The marshal’s head was tilted to the side, a frown on his face.

“I think I hit my head when we crashed,” Din said softly, continuing to work on his boots. “I’m having...memory issues.”

“Memory issues? What kind of memory issues?”

Din set his boots to the side and, after a moment of hesitation, slid his pants off as well.

“The last thing I remember before waking up in the cockpit is you calling me.”

Cobb made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Oh.”

Oh indeed.

Din began working on the upper part of his armor, each piece stacked to the side. It pained him to just leave it on the floor, but there was nothing else for it; neither of them were in any condition to carry it to the padded storage compartment it usually rested in the on the rare occasions when Din wasn’t wearing it.

“So, you don’t remember what we’re out here for then?”

Din shook his head and whispered, “No.”

Cobb sighed, running his hand through his hair.

Din set his cloak to the side, leaving him in just his helmet, underwear, and the top of his flightsuit. He stood with a groan, Cobb’s hands automatically shooting out. They landed on his thighs, and the groan turned into a gasp at the contact. It was like lightning was shooting through his veins, originating from Cobb’s hands.

Neither of them moved.

Din could hear the blood rushing through his ears, his breath echoing loudly in the confines of his helmet. Cobb’s head was tilted up, lips slightly parted, and Din wondered what he was thinking.

“Sorry,” Cobb croaked, taking his hands back. Din didn’t want to think about the empty feeling they left behind.

“It’s okay. You don’t—you don’t have to apologize for everything.”

Cobb’s mouth twitched, “Habit.”

There was a lot to unpack in that sentence, and Din tucked it away into the same thought box as Cobb’s scars and flinches and potentially self-sacrificial tendencies.

Din gripped Cobb’s shoulder and squeezed once.

“I’m going to need your help to walk,” Din said.

Cobb nodded, standing and covering Din’s hand with his own. He followed it down his arm, over his shoulder and around his back. Din leaned into him, wrapping his arm around Cobb’s waist. They moved slowly, Din guiding them back to the cot. He stared at it, trying to think of the best way to arrange themselves on it.

“Here, you first,” he said after a moment.

Cobb sat on the edge of the cot, his hands finding Din’s waist to help him keep his balance. Cobb laid down, unwrapping the blankets from his shoulders and holding them to his chest instead.

“Lay on your side, back against the wall.”

Cobb turned on to his side facing Din, scooting over until his back was pressed to the wall. He flinched away from the cold, and Din took the blankets from him, spreading them over him, making sure to put them between him and the wall. Taking a few seconds to steel his nerves, Din slid in under the blankets beside him, lying on his side facing Cobb.

It was _definitely_ not made for two full grown men to share.

Din’s helmet rested on Cobb’s bicep, the marshal’s other arm draped over Din’s side. Din’s own hands were tucked to his chest. After a bit of careful shuffling one of Cobb’s legs wormed its way between Din’s, careful not to jostle his wounded leg too much.

“Well,” Cobb whispered, “this is cozy.”

Din remained silent.

Cobb shifted the arm under Din’s head.

“We’re chasing a bounty hunter named Ripha Odross,” Cobb started after a few moments. The name itself wasn’t familiar, but the sound of it was distinctly Trandoshan—the face he remembered earlier then.

“She’s kidnapped one of my people from Mos Pelgo. A Twi’lek woman—Ardana’talik. She moved to Mos Pelgo about a year ago, running from an...arranged marriage.”

Cobb shifted his arm again. Din realized suddenly that his helmet couldn’t be comfortable where it was pressed against him. He glanced up at Cobb, at the bandage that wrapped around his head and covered his eyes. With a deep inhale Din lifted his hands, grasping the bottom of the helmet and pulling it off. He set it down on the shelf next to the canteen, Cobb’s head tilting to follow the sound.

“Mando? Did...did you?”

“It’d be rude of me to headbutt you in the middle of the night.”

Cobb tensed, his mouth opening and closing.

“You’re probably right,” he eventually settled on.

Din laid his head back down, closing his eyes. With the helmet off, he could hear Cobb breathing next to him and the wind howling outside.

“Where are we headed?” he asked.

“Ylesia. That’s where she came from.”

Din frowned, “Ylesia is a spice planet. It’s controlled by the Hutts.”

“Mhm. You said that the first time I told you.”

Din’s frowned deepened, “You said she was escaping an arranged marriage?”

Cobb scoffed, “That’s what her overseer called it. They were taking her from working in a spice processing plant to warming criminals’ laps.”

Din was unsurprised by the seething hatred in Cobb’s voice. All at once everything made since, the last piece of the puzzle sliding into place.

“You...” Din licked his lips, hoping he wasn’t about to screw everything up. “You were a slave once, weren’t you?”

Cobb’s whole body tensed.

“I was,” he whispered after a minute. “How did you know?”

“Just—connected the dots.”

Cobb hummed, his body slowly relaxing.

“It was a long time ago.”

Din shook his head, “Some things stay with you a lifetime.”

They lapsed into silence. Din exhaled slowly, lifting one of his arms and letting it rest on Cobb’s hip. Cobb hummed again, scooting fractionally closer to Din.

“You’re warm,” Cobb muttered.

Din sighed, shifting forwards so they were pressed flush together. He couldn’t stop the shiver that wracked his body, unused to so much contact with another person. The arm under Din’s head moved, and a hand pressed between Din’s shoulder blades.

“Din, I—” Cobb started, his words soft. He sighed heavily, mouth twisting around whatever it was he wanted to say. After a moment he leaned forward, bumping his forehead against Din’s. Din froze, his eyes wide.

“This is…” Cobb whispered, “this is how your people kiss, right?”

Din opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded weakly, Cobb’s head moving with the motion.

“Okay,” Cobb said, pressing a bit more insistently.

“How did you—?”

“I, uh. I asked someone. Another Mandalorian, came through Mos Pelgo not too long ago. Wore this real familiar green armor.”

That was a story Din definitely wanted to hear. It could wait though—for now, Din focused on tilting his head just enough to press a fleeting kiss to Cobb’s lips. Cobb followed him as he pulled back, kissing Din like he was starving for it. Maybe he was—Din was too, though his lack of experience made his movements shy.

“So you kiss both ways then?” Cobb asked as he pulled away, their foreheads still touching.

“If I was wearing my helmet, I could only do it this way,” Din explained. “But with my helmet off, I can kiss the way most humans do.”

Cobb chuckled, “Reminds me of a song I heard once almost.”

“Oh?”

Cobb nodded, and began to sing, “Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. We should just kiss like real people do.”

“You’ll have to sing me the whole song sometime,” Din whispered.

Cobb grinned, and Din was helpless before his sudden desire to lean forward and feel it against his own lips. He realized that Cobb no longer felt cold to the touch; in fact, he was radiating a gentle warmth. It was almost addicting, being so close to him, sharing his warmth. Despite the throbbing of his thigh and the nervous energy thrumming through his veins, Din felt himself drifting to sleep. By the way Cobb’s breathing was evening out, he was too.

“We’ll save her,” Din whispered. “You have my word.”

Cobb hummed, “I know.”

Din sighed and closed his eyes. He still needed to figure out which of the internal systems were damaged, which ones needed immediate repair and which could wait. And there was the issue of Cobb’s injury, the potential damage to his eyes. And there was the issue of Din’s amnesia, the head injury it signified.

Yet, curled against Cobb, listening to the wind howling outside the ship, it all seemed far away. As if the only thing in the universe that mattered was him and Cobb, pressed together in the dark.

Din closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The creatures that Din fights are asharl panthers.  
> Also, Hozier is made for DinCobb. The song that Cobb sings is “Like Real People Do” by Hozier.


	3. Fake Dating AU

Din looked up from his textbook as Cobb groaned, tossing his phone onto the floor beside his leg. Cobb leaned forward, his head meeting the surface of the coffee table with an echoing thud that had Din wincing sympathetically.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

Cobb groaned again, rolling his head to the side to look at Din.

“I’ve messed up,” he said.

Din frowned, setting his pen on his notebook and folding his arms on the table.

“How so?”

Cobb huffed, raising his head and mirroring Din’s position leaning on the table.

“I may or may not have lied to my mom about having a boyfriend.”

Din opened his mouth, then quickly closed it. He cleared his throat, then asked, “Why?”

“So she’d leave me alone about it,” Cobb said. “She kept pestering me about finding someone, you don’t want to be alone all your life do you?”

His voice raised into a terrible falsetto for the last half of the sentence, and Din chuckled. Cobb grinned, though it quickly fell.

“Now she’s coming down to visit, and she wants to meet him.”

Din hummed, “Can’t you just say he’s at work or something?”

Cobb shook his head, “That would only make it worse. My mom is stubborn.”

Din hummed again, picking his pen back up and returning to his notes. Cobb grumbled under his breath, standing and making his way to the kitchen. It made something warm in Din’s chest, the way Cobb didn’t hesitate to make himself at home in Din’s apartment. He clenched his teeth, suppressing the feeling as soon as it appeared. His feelings for Cobb were something he’d been struggling with almost as long as he’d known the man—and what was that, three years now?

Cobb came back with an already opened beer for each of them, setting Din’s by his elbow. Din grabbed it, meeting Cobb’s over the table in a clink of glass and then raising it to his lips.

“Would you be my boyfriend?”

Din choked on his drink.

Cobb’s eyes widened as Din coughed, and he quickly backtracked.

“Not like that! Just, to pretend. At least while my mom’s here?”

He sounded more uncertain with each sentence. Din gasped, giving one last cough. Shock worn off, now there was only dread curdling in his gut. Yeah, he could pretend to be Cobb’s boyfriend. It would be a genuine performance, too. And then they’d go back to being friends, sitting on the floor on either side of his cheap coffee table, studying and laughing and being _just friends_.

He should say no. Say he was busy, that he had plans, maybe with Boba or Peli or—

“Yeah, I can do that.”

_Fuck._

Cobb visibly relaxed, the grin returning to his face.

“Thanks, partner. I really appreciate it.”

Din nodded, turning his gaze back to his textbook in the hopes that Cobb wouldn’t be able to see the pink spreading across his cheeks. _Partner;_ Cobb’s Texan drawl turned the simple word into something smooth and warm, and every time Cobb used it in reference to Din it made him blush. Even when he wasn’t addressing Din directly—Din had heard him use the term once when talking to a classmate, describing Din as his _partner in crime,_ and Din had flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“She’s only gonna be here for the weekend,” Cobb said, unaware of Din’s internal crisis as he typed on his phone. “She’ll come down Saturday afternoon, head back home Sunday evening.”

“Any plans?” Din asked, applauding himself for keeping his voice even.

“Dinner Saturday evening. Probably go to the zoo, maybe the aquarium if the weather’s bad Sunday.”

“I think it’s supposed to storm,” Din said, and _they were planning a date._ Din swallowed, reaching up and pushing his glasses further up his nose even though they were already as high as they could go. It was a nervous tic he had been trying to rid himself of, and yet Cobb always managed to bring it out in him.

“Aquarium it is then.”

Din spent the days between Monday and Saturday in a haze of studying and near-panic. It amused Boba and Fennec to no end; the two knew of his feelings for Cobb, of course, often offering him frankly terrible advice (and, on one occasion, locking the two of them in a storage closet for half an hour).

“It takes, what, two hours to go through the whole aquarium?” Fennec said, the casual tone of her voice a direct contrast to her sharp grin. “Two whole hours of walking around, holding hands—you know, there’s a _lot_ of dark corners in there, especially in the jellyfish room. You might be able squirrel him away into one, sneak a kiss or two.”

Din buried his face in his hands, his glasses pressing awkwardly against his cheekbones.

“Or better yet,” Boba chimed in, “Cobb pressing _you_ into a dark corner.”

“Stop,” Din groaned.

“Aw, your ears are getting pink again.”

Noon on Saturday found Din standing in front of his closet, Boba on speaker phone.

“How should I know what you should wear?” Boba asked. “Do you know when the last time I went on a date was?”

“Probably around the same time I did,” Din shot back. His anxiety was spiking with every minute that ticked by.

Boba sighed, and there was the thud of something heavy being sat down. _Probably working on his motorcycle,_ Din thought.

“What about that button-up you wore to that conference in spring?” Boba suggested after a moment. “The blue one.”

Din dug through his closet, finding the button-up after a moment and pulling it from it’s hangar.

“Ok, and?”

Boba scoffed, “Oh, you’re hopeless. Hang on.”

Din crossed to his dresser and pulled a plain gray t-shirt from one of the drawers, putting it on in place of the faded Hozier tee he wore and tugging his mudhorn pendant to sit against his chest over it. He could hear Boba talking to someone, the sounds muffled. After a minute there was the sound of clattering as Boba’s phone was laid on something.

“You both owe me for this,” Fennec said. Din could see her in his mind’s eye, arms crossed over her chest.

“Please help,” Din groaned.

Fennec sighed, “You got the blue button-up?”

“Yeah?”

“Alright. You have a pair of dark jeans, right? And boots?”

Din rifled through his closet again.

“Yes, and yes.”

“Throw all that together, and roll your sleeves up. Everyone’s a sucker for rolled up sleeves.”

Din flushed, “That’s not—”

“You asked for my help, now shut up and take it.”

Din sighed, pulling his sweats off and pulling the jeans on in their place.

“Make sure you brush your teeth, too,” Boba added.

Din rolled his eyes at that. The helpfulness was over—now was time for them to take the piss.

“And make sure you clean your glasses.”

“Oh, and do something with your hair, yeah? Or at least try.”

“Make sure you accessorize, that’s important.”

“Don’t forget to—”

“Thank you, goodbye,” Din said, pressing the button to end the call. Still, he couldn’t help but take their advice, wetting his hands and attempting to tame his hair. It was a losing effort, but he tried. He grabbed his watch and the woven leather bracelet Cobb had given him years ago as a gift, putting them both on. He stared at the bracelet—it had been a simple gift, brought back with Cobb after he visited his family for Christmas. Did he know how Din thought of him every time he looked at it? That he could still picture Cobb’s smile as he had given it to him?

Din sighed, checking the time. It was barely past one—he wasn’t due to meet Cobb at the restaurant until four. That gave him almost three hours to sit and panic.

The restaurant Din was meeting Cobb and his mom at was a smaller, locally owned place that he and Cobb often grabbed lunch at between classes. The food was some of the best Din had ever had and the staff was charming and friendly. Din arrived fifteen minutes early, parking his motorcycle and pulling his helmet off, running his hand through his hair in another useless attempt to tame it into something other than a fluffy mess.

Cobb’s truck pulled up beside him a moment later, and Din could see Cobb through the window, shaking with laughter. He waved when he saw Din staring, turning the truck off and letting the door swing open. His eyes flicked quickly up and down Din, and Din clenched his jaw to stop the shuffling of his feet.

“Hey darlin’,” he drawled, stepping close as the door shut behind him. “Hope we didn’t keep you waiting long.”

Din shook his head, “No, not at all.”

Cobb grinned, throwing his arm around Din’s shoulder as he moved to stand beside him and pulling him flush to his side. Din didn’t have time to think about it too hard as Cobb’s mom came from around the side of the truck.

Even if Din hadn’t already known who she was, there would be no doubt that Miranda Vanth was related to Cobb. She had the same eyes he did, the same confident swagger to her walk, the same easy, steady presence. She was built differently to Cobb, broader in her shoulders and hips where Cobb was narrow, her skin tanned and weathered by a lifetime of farm work.

“Well now, howdy stranger,” Miranda greeted, setting her hands on her hips.

“Hello ma’am,” Din said, holding his hand out to her.

“Oh, none of that now,” she stepped forward and pulled Din into a hug much tighter than he expected. “You can just call me Momma.”

Din returned the hug after a second of hesitation, feeling Cobb’s eyes on his back. Miranda released the hug only to grab his shoulders, taking half a step back and looking at him.

“You managed to snag you quite a looker, Cobb,” she said after a few seconds.

“Momma,” Cobb groaned, and Miranda grinned.

“Oh, shush. You’ve been keepin’ him away from me for long enough.” She turned her attention back to Din. “You been keepin’ my boy in line? I know he’s got a knack for trouble.”

Din smiled, “I try my best, ma—Momma.”

Miranda chuckled, patting Din on the shoulder as she took another step back.

“Come on, let’s get inside! I’m starving.”

Miranda led the way into the restaurant, Cobb grabbing Din’s hand as they followed her. Heat creeped up Din’s cheeks; Cobb’s hand fit perfectly against his, palm to palm with their fingers laced together. He glanced at Cobb from the corner of his eye, noting the easy grin on his face.

They were seated in a booth next to one of the windows, Cobb pressing himself into Din’s side and Miranda sitting across from them.

“So, what do you boys suggest getting?” Miranda asked, looking over the menu.

“You’d probably like the pork chops,” Cobb said. Neither he or Din bothered looking at the menu, already knowing what they were getting.

The waitress came and took their order a minute later: fried pork chops for Miranda, a breakfast burger for Cobb, and a club sandwich for Din.

“Alright Din,” Miranda started, setting her elbows on the table, “tell me about yourself. Cobb’s been so scarce on the details I was beginning to think he’d made you up.”

Din couldn’t help but chuckle, and Cobb pressed his knee against his under the table.

“I’m afraid I’m just not that interesting a person to begin with,” Din answered.

“Now babe, you know that ain’t true,” Cobb chided.

Din ducked his head, grinning. First darling and now babe—Din wasn’t going to survive the night.

“Of course it ain’t!” Miranda agreed. “Cobb tells me you’re studying to be a social worker.”

Din nodded, “That’s right. I grew up in the foster system, so I want to be the person I needed back then for other kids.”

Miranda hummed, glancing at Cobb, “A pretty smile _and_ a big heart.”

Cobb smiled proudly, throwing his arm around Din’s shoulders.

Dinner passed in a blur of questions from Miranda and casual affection from Cobb, and Din felt like he was floating by the time they stepped out into the night air. Cobb had taken his hand again, his thumb rubbing back and forth along the side of Din’s index finger and sending tiny shocks through him with each pass.

“See you tomorrow?” Din asked, looking at Cobb.

“Mhm, aquarium at noon.”

Din nodded and, feeling bold, leaned in and pressed a kiss to Cobb’s cheek. Cobb’s face lit up, and he returned the gesture, pressing his lips to Din’s temple.

“Ah, young love,” Miranda sighed, grinning cheekily.

Din tittered, nudging his glasses up with the back of his free hand. Cobb squeezed his hand before letting go, climbing into his truck.

“Get home safe,” Din called, waving at them.

He watched them leave, waiting for the truck to disappear around the corner before groaning and burying his face in his hands.

Cobb and Miranda were first to the aquarium, Din getting caught up in traffic. They both waved at him as he dismounted his bike and tugged his helmet off.

“See, I told you his helmet hair was adorable,” Cobb said to Miranda, and Din immediately lifted his hand to try and smooth his hair back down.

“No, no, leave it,” Cobb caught his hand. “It looks good.”

“It looks messy.”

“And messy looks good on you. Makes you look…soft. Like, huggable-soft.”

Din grinned as Cobb struggled to find the words he wanted. Behind him, Miranda’s shoulders shook in barely suppressed laughter.

“So anyway, aquarium?” Cobb said, lacing their fingers together and leading them up the stairs to the front doors.

The aquarium was less busy than Din expected it to be, a few other couples and some families walking around. Miranda unfolded the brochure the lady at the ticket counter had given them, studying the map that covered one side.

“Oh, they have penguins,” she gasped, grinning.

“Mhm, they just finished building their enclosure a month ago,” Din said. “It’s on the other side of the shark tunnel.”

“Well what are we waiting for, let’s go!” Miranda headed in the direction of the shark tunnel, Cobb and Din following behind. Cobb chuckled, and Din tilted his head to look at him.

“Penguins are her favorite animal,” he said quietly.

“Ah.”

They sidestepped the moving walkway in the shark tunnel, instead walking at a slower pace next to it. Miranda and Cobb were talking about the time they had gone to an aquarium when Cobb was little, and Din tried to pay attention but he was too distracted by the way the light shifted across Cobb’s face, the water creating abstract patterns that slid over his skin. Din’s hand twitched, the desire to reach out and follow their path barely managed as he forced himself to tune back into the conversation.

“...and then it splashed water all over you. You were so upset!” Miranda laughed.

“Well, you would have been too,” Cobb pouted.

Din leaned close, squeezing Cobb’s hand and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and _oh_ , wasn’t that so easy to do?

Din stopped as a hammerhead shark swam over their heads, tilting his head to follow its path across the tunnel. When he lowered his head he found Cobb staring at him, a soft smile on his face.

They spent most of their time at the penguin exhibit, watching the penguins waddle back and forth. Din stood back and watched Cobb and Miranda coo at the birds, matching wide smiles on their faces. After a several minutes he tapped Cobb on the shoulder, grabbing his attention.

“I’m going to find the bathroom real quick. Wait for me here?”

“Sure,” Cobb said, already turning back to the penguins.

Din smiled, making his way towards the gift shop. It was easy to find, and after only a few moments saw what he was after. Plush penguins lined several shelves, identical to the ones that were in the habitat. Each one had a tag wrapped to its left flipper with a small blurb of information about the penguin the plush was modeled after. He scanned the tags, eventually finding what he was looking for: a mother and a son.

He purchased the plushes and made his way back to the penguin exhibit. Neither Miranda or Cobb had moved, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the glass.

“What took you so—” Cobb’s words trailed off as Din presented him with one of the penguins—the son. The mother he handed to Miranda, watching her run her hands over the soft fabric.

“Oh, Din, these are—thank you sweetie,” Miranda said, standing and pulling Din into another tight hug.

“You’re welcome.”

Cobb stood as well, tucking his penguin to his chest with one arm.

“Where’s yours?” he asked.

“Oh, I didn’t get one,” Din answered.

Cobb’s face morphed into an offended expression.

“Well, that won’t do at all,” he scoffed.

He marched off without another word, and Din made to follow, only to be stopped by Miranda’s hand on his arm.

“Din,” she said softly. “I want to thank you for taking care of my boy.”

Din’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side.

“I know he can be a handful,” she continued. “And...I’ve been worried about him, you know? He’s far from home, and he’s terrible about taking care of himself.”

Din nodded in agreement, thinking back to the first few months they had known each other, Cobb going out almost every night, staying up until dawn and practically living off of energy drinks. He had mellowed over the years, though Din still had to force him into bed some nights.

“I try my best,” Din said.

Miranda smiled, the edges tinged with sorrow.

“His father was the same way. Always worryin’ about others, not bothering to take care of himself at all.”

Din frowned. Cobb rarely talked about his father, had mentioned him in passing a few times but never in detail. That was fine—Din had no parents to speak of, other than a couple of memorable foster parents.

“Oh, look at me, souring a perfectly good day,” Miranda said suddenly, flapping her free hand in front of her. “Point is, I’m glad he has you.”

Din grinned, “I’m glad I have him too.”

Anything else that would be said was interrupted by something soft being sat on his head. He lifted his hands as Cobb’s laughter came from behind him, and he pulled a plush penguin from his head. Cobb’s arms snaked around his waist and pulled him against his chest, his chin hooking over his shoulder.

“There, now we match,” he said, wiggling his own plush in his hand.

Din chuckled, flipping over the tag tied to his and reading it. Heat rushed up to the tips of his ears as he realized that Cobb had gotten him the mate to the plush that Din had given him.

It was a coincidence, surely.

They left the aquarium an hour later, penguin plushes in tow, and Din could hardly hear for his blood rushing through his ears. This was it—he'd say goodbye, Miranda would head back, and he and Cobb would go back to being friends.

“I’m glad I finally got to meet you Din,” Miranda said, pulling Din into one last hug. “You keep him in line, ya hear?”

“I will, I promise.”

Cobb scoffed, “Y’all act like I’m some sort of unruly animal.”

Miranda and Din shared a look, laughing. Cobb rolled his eyes and Din nudged their shoulders together. Miranda climbed into the truck and Cobb turned to face Din.

“See ya tomorrow night?” he asked.

Right. Tomorrow night, the two of them on either side of the coffee table, studying and laughing and _just friends_.

“Of course.”

Cobb smiled, and Din couldn’t help it—he leaned in, cupping his cheek and pressing their lips together. Din could feel Cobb grin against his lips, and a hand landed on his hip. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, and yet Din’s head was spinning.

Cobb cleared his throat, “Right. Uh, see ya!”

Din nodded, watching Cobb climb into his truck. Miranda waved at him, and Din waved back. The truck backed out of its parking spot, and Din grabbed his helmet, jamming it onto his head if only so he wouldn’t watch them leave again.

The knock on his apartment door that night startled him out of the documentary he was watching, and he frowned at it for a moment before standing to answer it. He glanced through the peephole, surprised to see Cobb standing there. He opened the door, tilting his head to the side in silent question.

“So,” Cobb started, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” he teased, stepping to the side to let Cobb in.

Cobb hummed, stopping just a couple of steps inside. Din closed the door and turned around, and immediately found himself backed against it as Cobb closed the distance between them.

“Cobb? What are—”

“Can I kiss you again?” Cobb whispered.

Din’s eyes widened, and he nodded.

Cobb’s lips met his, and Din’s hands shot into his hair, tangling in the silver strands. Cobb’s hands landed on his hips, one of them crawling under his hoodie and curling around his side, the skin-on-skin contact making Din shiver.

They pulled back to breathe, Din tilting Cobb’s head down so their foreheads rested together.

“I’ve always liked the way this hoodie looks on you,” Cobb murmured, his thumb rubbing circles into Din’s skin.

Din looked down at himself, his brain so scattered from the kiss that he couldn’t remember what hoodie he was wearing. It was a dark blue one, the NASA logo emblazoned across the front faded with age and wear.

“Always?” Din asked.

Cobb huffed a laugh.

“I...I may have based my totally fake boyfriend off of you when I was telling my mom about him.”

Din blinked.

“Look, I just—”

“Cobb,” Din cut him off, “do you want me to be your actual boyfriend?”

Cobb grinned, “If you’d like?”

Din answered by pulling him into another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A humongous shoutout to the people in the discord for drawing Din in NASA hoodies, because that image now lives in my head rent free.


	4. Fantasy AU

There was something about Din Djarin that Cobb could not figure out.

Ever since Cobb had met him—only three weeks ago, though it felt so much longer with everything that had happened—the hunter had proved to be more and more of an enigma. He called himself a hunter, yet wore the full plate of a knight. He rarely spoke, and when he did there was an odd, echoed quality to his voice that sent a shiver down Cobb’s spine. He never seemed to eat or drink, or even sleep—Cobb hadn’t seen him remove a single piece of his armor since they had met.

More than anything however was the strong fog of dark magic that surrounded him. It had set Cobb’s teeth on edge when they had first met, and he had had to quickly stop himself from transforming out of defensive reflex.

And none of that even addressed the child he had with him. Grogu was an adorable kid, for sure, and yet he had an aura of magic to him even stronger than Din did, though his wasn’t dark. Cobb had looked at him once when Din was distracted with talking to the Tuskens, letting his eyes shift from human to draconic. There were few things that could hide from the eyes of a dragon—Cobb had seen right through the glamour charm on the child, taking in green skin and large, pointed ears and dark, dark eyes. Fae, of some sort.

It was a puzzle Cobb couldn’t figure out, though he was probably missing a few pieces.

“It’s going to get dark soon,” Din’s voice cut through his thoughts. “We should stop for the night.”

Cobb nodded, tugging on Temuri’s reins to get her to stop. The Friesian snorted, shaking her head as Cobb pat the side of her neck. Din pulled Crest to a stop beside her, the gray Percheron glancing back at Din. Cobb dismounted, taking Temuri’s reins and holding his hand out for Din to hand him Crest’s. They had fallen into a routine over the weeks of travel—Cobb tended their horses, Din took care of the fire and dinner.

Dinner he never ate himself.

Cobb sighed, leading Temuri and Crest over to one of the thicker trees nearby. He kept one eye on Din as he tethered both horses to the tree, watching him gather wood together to start a fire. Grogu sat at his side, intently watching a frog bounce along the ground. Not for the first time, Cobb wondered how the two of them came to be together.

He turned his attention back to the horses, beginning the tedious process of removing their saddles and the various bits of gear attached to them. He sat the saddlebags against the tree’s trunk, checking the straps for wear as he did. The bundle of green armor came off of Crest next, Cobb staring at it for a long moment as he set it down. He wouldn’t deny he missed wearing it—the metal alone was surprisingly durable, let alone the protective enchantments layered on it. He traced his fingers over the two symmetrical runes carved onto the back of the cuirass, the magic fizzing under his touch. He still remembered the first time he had activated the rune, large wings of green light unfurling from his back and sending him into the sky. Not terribly different from flying with his own wings—and his shoulder blades itched at the thought, it had been so long since he’d actually let his wings out—but just different enough to be exhilarating.

He thought of the similar rune etched into Din’s armor. He had activated it during their battle with the krayt dragon, the both of them soaring side by side as they tried to find a weak spot in the dragon’s scales. Din’s wings were larger, each feather pure white and ending in a sharp point. It didn’t match up with the dark magic Cobb could feel rolling off of him whenever they were close.

Cobb shook his head, continuing with his work. Din had already gotten the fire up and going, though the man himself was nowhere to be found. Cobb was used to it though; Din would return in a few minutes, dinner in hand, and start cooking. He slid Temuri’s saddle and blanket off her back, tossing them over a low, sturdy tree branch and checking the saddle over for wear and tear. Satisfied, he fished through his bags until he found the small collection of brushes he kept to use on Temuri.

By the time he had finished brushing Temuri and was on to removing Crest’s saddle Din returned, two already cleaned rabbits in hand. He gave Cobb a nod, then sat and began assembling the spit Cobb had dug from his bags and sat by the fire. Grogu clung to his back, tiny fingers curled around his pauldron.

Crest got the same amount of care Temuri did, Cobb rubbing the curry comb in tight circles over his side. A slight pressure against his calf had him looking down, only to find Grogu staring up at him with his big, dark eyes.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Cobb asked, slowing his brushing.

Grogu lifted his arms with a grunt. For as quiet as Din was, Grogu didn’t speak at all, communicating entirely by gesture and expression. Luckily Cobb was experienced with kids, and the gesture for up was universal. He knelt down and scooped Grogu up, balancing him against his hip as he went back to his normal brushing pace.

“You wanna try your hand at it?” Cobb asked once he had switched to the softer dandy brush. Grogu nodded, and Cobb helped him hold the brush. It was a bit big in his hand, so Cobb placed his over it, guiding the brush along.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Grogu nodded again. It was much slower going with Grogu holding the brush, but Cobb was in no hurry, and neither was Crest. The horse was far too busy nuzzling with Temuri to pay them any mind.

“Dinner’s ready,” Din announced a few minutes later, his soft, echoed voice sending its typical shiver up Cobb’s spine.

“Sounds like that’s our cue,” Cobb said, taking the brush back from Grogu. He tossed it in the general direction of his bags, readjusting his grip on Grogu as he carried him over to Din.

Dinner, as with everything else, had a routine to it. Cobb ate, Din helped Grogu eat, and Din ate nothing himself. It was the main problem that Cobb couldn’t figure out: Din had to be eating something, or else he would have passed out from hunger long ago. It was possible he was eating while Cobb was asleep, but every time Cobb had woken up in the various middles of the night, Din had been sitting in the exact same spot, Grogu wrapped in his cloak and asleep in his arms.

There was, of course, the distinct possibility that Din was inhuman. But even then, Cobb couldn’t think of a creature that could go so long without eating bar some form of undead. While Din was covered with dark magic, it didn’t have the same sickening, cloying feel of necromancy. It felt more like a curse or a hex, sharp and dark and cold like a shard of black ice.

Cobb frowned, stuffing the last bite of rabbit in his mouth. There was only one thing for it then.

“What are you, exactly?”

Din paused in wiping Grogu’s face with the end of his cloak. The fire crackled between them. After a few seconds Din continued in his endeavor, wiping at Grogu’s face even though it was clean.

Yeah, that’s about what Cobb expected.

“Would it help if I went first?” Cobb offered.

Din tilted his helmet in his direction, the eye slit in his helmet dark as always.

“Went first?”

“Sure. I’ll show you mine, you show me yours?”

Din didn’t move. Grogu squirmed in his lap, and Din let him go, Grogu settling on the grass beside him.

“I have nothing to show,” Din said.

Cobb hummed, “Nothing, huh? The same nothing your kid has goin’ on?”

Din shifted, and Cobb noticed his hand drift towards the hilt of his sword. Cobb sighed, rolling the sleeves of his tunic up. It was no effort at all to pull the draconic magic into his arms, bright crimson scales crawling across his skin, covering from the tips of his fingers to below his elbows. He held his arms out for Din to see, watching the way the firelight bounced off the scales.

Din didn’t move, his helmet trained on Cobb’s arms. His hand didn’t move, either, frozen halfway between his side and his sword. Cobb took it as a good sign, letting the magic go further. His canine teeth lengthened and sharpened into fangs. His eyes shifted, hazel irises turning yellow and pupils becoming slits. The magic burned through his veins, and he quickly tamped it down before the transformation could go any further.

“See? Ain’t no secret you got that I can’t keep.”

Din dipped his head, his posture loosening. Cobb relaxed in turn, flexing his hands slightly. The scales rippled with the motion, sending flashes of crimson light dancing across Din’s armor. Cobb couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the feel of the magic pulsing through him, the feel of the scales layering over his skin. It had been a while since he had done any sort of transformation, the need to blend in among regular humans outweighing his desire to let his magic free. Din leaned forward, head tilted to the side.

“Your eyes,” he muttered.

“Yeah, the slit pupils and yellow irises are a part of—”

“They’re not yellow anymore. Or, well, they’re a different shade of yellow.”

“Ah, yeah, that. If I feel any particularly strong emotions, my eyes change color to reflect it.”

Din nodded slowly, “So, yellow means?”

“Happiness.”

Din leaned back, Grogu taking the opportunity to crawl into his lap. Din looked down at him, rubbing a gauntleted hand over his back. Cobb watched from across the fire, feeling the same flutter of warmth he always felt when watching the two of them interact. It made his heart ache, in the same way eating something too sweet caused his teeth hurt.

“I,” Din began with a deep inhale, “I’m not—there’s nothing under my armor.”

Cobb frowned, “I’m pretty sure we already had this conversation.”

“Not like that,” Din shook his head. “I mean there’s literally nothing. I…my physical body is elsewhere.”

Cobb blinked, his eyes skittering across Din’s armor.

“Elsewhere?” he eventually whispered.

“Yes. My spirit is,” he tilted his head as he thought, “attached, to my armor.”

“You’re cursed,” Cobb whispered as realization dawned.

Din nodded.

“My specific order of Mandalorians—we called ourselves the Tribe—came under attack by a warlock named Gideon. He wanted Grogu—I don’t know what for. We refused to hand him over, hid him away in the tunnels under our fortress. So Gideon cursed us: he placed us in a perpetual slumber, then ripped our souls from our bodies. I’m sure he meant to destroy them, but something went wrong and he bound them to our armor instead.”

Cobb stared, his eyes flicking between Din and Grogu. The child was starting to fall asleep in his lap, face tucked against his cuirass.

“How long ago was that?” Cobb asked.

Din tilted his head back and stared into the darkness above them.

“Six years, now,” he said after a moment.

“Six _years_? So all that time, you’ve been—what happened to your bodies?”

“Our armorer placed a spell on us to preserve our bodies exactly as they were when we were cursed. We then placed our bodies in our rooms and sealed them so no one could destroy them.”

Cobb sighed, running his hand through his hair. It was a lot to take in, though it also explained quite a bit of the other man’s behaviors. Din took the silence as his cue to remove his cloak, bundling it around Grogu’s sleeping form.

“How do you break the curse?” Cobb asked after a minute.

Din shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t know if it even can be broken.”

“All curses can be broken,” Cobb said. “It’s built in to the curse—they wouldn’t work otherwise. It’s part of the laws of magic.”

Din tilted his head to the side.

“You say that like you’ve dealt with them before.”

“Not curses specifically, no. But I do know quite a bit about magic in general. My mother...” Cobb swallowed, casting his eyes to the ground. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “My mother was a sorceress. Or had been, once upon a time. She taught me quite a lot about magic when I was a kid.”

Silence fell around them, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

“Is she the reason you’re able to do that?” Din gestured to Cobb’s arms.

“No. This came from my dad’s side of the family. At least, that’s what my mother told me.”

“Your father didn’t—”

“I never met my father.”

More silence. Cobb stared at the fire between them, focusing on the color and heat so as not to get swept up into his memories.

“I’m sorry,” Din said after a moment.

Cobb shrugged, “It was a long time ago. Besides, you can’t miss what you never had.”

“You miss your mother. Your eyes turned blue when you spoke of her.”

Cobb huffed, rubbing at his eyes.

“Guess I don’t have to tell you what that color means.”

Din shook his head.

Cobb took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Smoke curled from his mouth, mixing with the smoke from their campfire.

“So your body is safe in your fortress?”

Din nodded.

“And the fortress is where?”

Din stared at him. Cobb didn’t waver, waiting for the answer.

“In Nevarro.”

Cobb hummed, “That’s not too terribly far from here.”

Din shook his head again.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

“Don’t what? I mean, you want your body back, right? I could try—”

“The fortress is under Gideon’s control. He took it by force, a short while after we were cursed.”

That did complicate things.

“What about your people? Where are they?”

Din didn’t answer for several moments, and when he did, Cobb almost didn’t hear him for how quiet he was.

“I don’t know. We scattered, after we sealed our bodies away.”

Cobb nodded slowly.

“Well, I still think we should try.”

Din scoffed, “I’m not sure how much two people can do against a warlock.”

“We killed a dragon together, didn’t we?”

“We had the Tuskens to help with that.”

“Sure, but they weren’t the ones that flew into its mouth with nothing but a bottle of alchemical fire and an enchanted longsword.”

Din sighed, shaking his head.

“You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

“Yep.”

Din tilted his head down, readjusting his hold on Grogu. Bundled up as he was, Cobb could only see the tips of his large green ears poking out from the cloak.

“You should get some rest,” Din muttered after several minutes. “It might not be a far trip to Nevarro, but it’s certainly not an easy one.”

Cobb grinned, his eyes flashing yellow.

“I’m looking forward to every minute of it.”

It took them a little over two weeks to make it to Nevarro.

In those two weeks of travel, Cobb learned more about Din’s past. How he found and saved Grogu from a cult; how his Tribe took in orphans like Grogu and gave them a family; how Din had been one of those orphans once. Cobb told him a little more about himself in turn: about growing up with his mother in the forest; about learning to control the draconic magic burning in his veins; about his time acting as the marshal of a small mining town before the krayt dragon attacked.

It became a new part of their routine to sit across from each other, the fire between them, and talk. Cobb would let the magic crawl up his arms and, after the first few nights, let it go a bit further. Smooth red horns sprouted from above his eyes, curling up and around the sides of his head. His wings unfurled from his back, red and leathery, stretching to their full seven-foot span before folding against his back. Scales ran along the line of his cheekbones, across his shoulders, over his hips. Din had stared at him for a long time; even though he didn’t have eyes under his helmet, Cobb could practically feel him visually tracing the shape of his horns, his wings. It made heat bloom up his neck, and Cobb finally had to accept the truth.

Somewhere between slaying the krayt dragon and hearing Din laugh for the first time—a rough, low sound that echoed like his voice and sent a pleasant shock through Cobb—he had fallen in love with Din.

Nevarro sat in the shadow of a volcano, the constant smoke rising from its peak turning everything a dull gray color. A forest of thick, dark trees encircled the city, their trunks twisted and rough.

Din led them towards a large building in the center of town. It almost looked abandoned, dark and quiet inside and out.

“This is the home of the hunter’s guild,” Din explained as they dismounted, tying their horses to a hitching post to the side of the building. “I used to be a part of it.”

“You hopin’ they’ll lend us a hand in retaking the fortress?”

Din scoffed, “No. I’m hoping they’ll watch the horses and Grogu while we go and retake it.”

Cobb chuckled, following Din through the door and down a set of stairs. It was mostly empty, a couple people sitting at the bar, another few playing dice at a table. They all turned and stared as they entered, and Cobb smothered a growl in his throat.

“Mando!” a man sitting alone at a table called.

“Karga,” Din answered, beelining to him with Cobb at his heels.

“It has been far too long,” Karga smiled as they sat, his eyes dancing over the three of them before settling on Grogu. “How’s the little one been, hm? Still trying to eat frogs?”

Cobb chuckled despite himself, having had to stop Grogu from eating one just the night before. Din twisted his head to glance at Cobb before turning back to Karga.

“I was hoping you could watch him for a little while, actually,” Din said. “As well as our horses.”

Karga’s smile faded.

“Well, that’s no problem at all, but can I ask why?”

Din glanced at Cobb once more before answering, “We’re going to try and retake the fortress.”

Karga sat back, looking between the two of them.

“That’s a suicide mission.”

Din shrugged, “Maybe. We’ve faced worse and came out alive though.”

Karga hummed, dragging his hand over his face.

“So what happens to the kid if you don’t come back?”

“There’s a woman in Sorgan named Omera. Cara knows her. She can care for him.”

Karga sighed, shaking his head.

“Alright. When are you heading out?”

“Now.”

Karga huffed, “Figures. You never were one to take things slow.”

He stood, walking around the table and holding his arms out towards Grogu. Din handed him over, waiting until he was securely in Karga’s arms before poking him gently on the nose with his index finger.

“I will come back for you,” Din said, his voice firm. “I promise.”

Grogu whined, his brow furrowing. Din stood quickly, turning on his heel and making for the door. Cobb rose to follow, only to be stopped by Karga’s hand on his arm.

“Be careful,” he warned. “I don’t know how much Din has told you, but Gideon is not a man to be trifled with.”

“He told me as much,” Cobb said. “I plan on keeping him safe as I can.”

Karga nodded. Grogu whined again, reaching towards Cobb. Cobb lifted his hand, gripping Grogu’s.

“I’ll make sure he keeps his promise.”

With that, Cobb followed after Din. He found him standing with their horses, patting Crest’s neck.

“Do you really think you can break it?” Din asked, his voice barely a whisper. “The curse?”

“Curses tend to fall into a few different categories,” Cobb explained. “Each category has its own way to break it, with some minor variations.”

“And you can do whatever these curses require?”

Cobb nodded.

Din sighed, stepping back from Crest’s side.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

The Tribe’s fortress sat several miles outside of Nevarro itself, hidden by the forest. Cobb became more and more uneasy as they approached, dark magic just like the kind that clung to Din blanketing the air. He transformed almost without meaning too, his wings quivering against his back.

The fortress was made of black stone, sharp spires piercing the sky. A thick wall encircled it, though its heavy metal gate was wide open. Din stopped just in front of it, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Cobb, I—” he sighed, shaking his head.

Cobb grabbed his hand, the gauntlet cool under his fingers.

“It’s okay. I’ve got your back.”

Din turned to look at him, nodding slowly. He squeezed his hand, and Cobb squeezed back. Behind the gate was a wooden bridge, and Din led Cobb across it, not letting go of his hand. The door to the fortress itself was made of the same dark wood that surrounded it, the skull of a creature Cobb had never seen before carved into its surface. Din let go of Cobb’s hand to push the door open.

The fortress was dark inside, the dark stone and darkness outside casting everything in shadow. Cobb growled, eyes darting around them as they made their way deeper into the fortress.

“We’re being watched,” Din whispered.

“I figured as much,” Cobb hissed back, drawing his longsword with a hiss of metal on leather.

Another large, dark door, and Din paused with his hand on it. He looked to Cobb and, at Cobb’s nod, pushed the door open.

The door opened into a large, empty room, racks of weapons and armor lining the walls. In the center stood a man clad head to toe in black armor, a long cloak over his shoulders. Eight suits of equally black armor surrounded him in a square, their swords drawn with the points touching the ground between their feet. Two red dots glowed from within their helmets.

“So, you finally return,” the man said—Gideon, Cobb assumed.

Din didn’t answer, drawing his sword. He ran his hand over the blade and the lightning enchantment crackled to life, blue sparks arcing along the blade’s length.

“I see you brought a friend along, too,” Gideon continued. “Does he know you bring him to his death?”

“I ain’t the kind of man that dies,” Cobb growled, embers dancing in the air in front of his mouth.

Gideon chuckled. He waved his hands through the air, black and red energy swirling around them. The suits of armor moved in unison, bringing their swords up as they approached the two of them.

“Leave them to me,” Cobb muttered. “You go for Gideon.”

“There’s way too many of them for you to—”

“Don’t worry about me, darlin’. I’ve got a few tricks I haven’t shown you yet.”

Din shook his head. Any other response was cut off by a longsword arcing through the air towards his head. It was easily blocked, the lightning bouncing from Din’s sword and striking the armor in the center of its cuirass. Two others came at Cobb, and he blocked a strike with his sword, the other with his wing. He shoved with his wing, sending that suit sliding back along the ground. He parried another blow from the first suit, his eyes skittering across the armor, searching for the point where Gideon’s magic was tethered to it.

“What were you hoping to achieve in coming here?” Gideon taunted from where he still stood. “That you might reclaim your fortress? That you might break the curse? Even if you succeed in defeating me, my curse will linger upon you.”

As he spoke, Cobb eyes found the tether: an almost invisible thread of magic coming from the back of each suit of armor’s neck. Cobb snarled, thrusting his sword into a suit of armor’s neck. The armor spasmed as the magic thread snapped, then crumpled into a pile at Cobb’s feet.

Cobb dodged a thrust from another suit of armor, heat clawing at the inside of his throat. A snap of electricity, and two of the suits of armor attacking Din flew into pieces as the magic tether broke under the magic lightning. The heat flooded Cobb’s mouth, and he inhaled through his nose, opening his mouth and exhaling blue flames over the three suits of armor in front of him. It _hurt_ , the skin around his mouth stinging and cracking from the heat, his throat raw from the pure fire that left it. The three suits of armor fell, tether severed and metal melted.

The fire died away, leaving Cobb gasping and coughing. Another snap of electricity, and the last two suits of armor scattered across the floor at Din’s feet. Cobb glanced at Gideon through watering eyes, the warlock’s face twisted in fury.

“So be it,” he said, drawing a sword from his side. The blade was pure black, and with a muttered word white energy crackled along its length.

Cobb readjusted his grip on his sword with a growl. Din stood beside him, the lightning still popping and snapping along his blade. Gideon hissed something in a language Cobb didn’t understand, though it made his hair stand on end. More of the black and red energy swirled in his left hand, and he hurled it at Cobb. Cobb’s wings folded in front of his body to shield him from the magic; it connected with a thunderous boom, sending Cobb flying across the room. His back met the wall, knocking the breath from him. Distantly, he could hear Din shouting his name, only to be interrupted by the clash of metal on metal. Cobb slumped to the side, the dark magic licking over his wings. The room swam around him, and he turned his head to see the outline of Din and Gideon, their swords locked together.

Cobb pushed himself up, flapping his wings twice to dispel the lingering magic. He took two steps forward, shaking his head to try and shake the dizziness away. His back ached where it had hit the wall; his wings throbbed from the dark magic Gideon had thrown at him; his throat burned, scorched by his own fire.

Yet all he could think about was keeping Din safe.

Cobb leapt at Gideon with a roar, sharp fangs sinking into the unprotected skin of his throat. Gideon shouted in pain, the spell he had been building in his hand fizzling out as his concentration faltered. Din moved in, taking advantage of Gideon’s distraction to thrust his blade into Gideon’s chest. Cobb was quick to let go as lightning poured into Gideon from Din’s sword, spitting blood from his mouth.

Gideon’s body fell to the floor.

Din’s armor collapsed into a pile with it.

Cobb stared at the armor for several seconds, his brain struggling to understand what he was seeing. The room was completely silent except for Cobb’s ragged breaths.

Gideon was dead.

Din’s soul was free.

Cobb stumbled forward, reaching down and grabbing Din’s cloak. He held it to his chest, his hands trembling.

Din’s soul was free.

Cobb swallowed, his feet carrying him from the room. Din had explained the layout of the fortress to him, and he made his way towards the wing of the fortress that housed the warriors’ rooms. Cobb kept walking until he came to a door with a mudhorn skull painted onto it—the same mudhorn skull that decorated the cloak he was holding. The door was magically sealed as Din had said it would be, but time had weakened the seal, and it was easy for Cobb to break it. The door swung open, and Cobb took a deep breath before stepping inside.

Cobb crossed to the bed in the center of the room, his eyes glued to the figure lying on it. Even without the signet, Cobb knew in his heart that this was Din. He stared for a long moment, taking in the face of the man he had been traveling with. He looked peaceful, eyes closed and hands folded over his chest.

Din’s soul was no longer trapped in his armor. His curse was not yet broken.

Cobb leaned down, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to Din’s as his mother’s voice echoed in his head.

_“There is no curse in the world that cannot be broken by the power of true love.”_

When Cobb opened his eyes, brown ones were staring back at him.

A hand cupped his cheek, and Cobb leaned into it with a shuddering sigh. Tears were leaking from his eyes, and he made no move to stop them.

“Cobb,” Din whispered, the echo gone from his voice. It still sent a shiver down Cobb’s spine, and he surged forward, kissing Din once more.

Din sighed into the kiss, one hand carding through Cobb’s hair, the other sliding up his arm, fingers feeling the texture of Cobb’s scales for the first time. Cobb let go of the cloak to cup Din’s face, pulling back from the kiss to press their foreheads together as best his horns would allow. Din shivered against him, his hand lifting from Cobb’s arm to cup his cheek.

“Your eyes...” Din started, his thumb tracing the patch of red scales that covered one of Cobb’s cheekbones. “What color does red mean?”

Cobb grinned.

“It means love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had this AU floating around in my head for a long time now and I’m thrilled to finally have it come to life!


	5. Fantasy AU Bonus Fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is pretty much nothing but smut. Featuring knotting, come marking, and dirty talk.  
> Also, translations for certain phrases are going to be at the end of the fic. For the draconic language I used the draconic language from Skyrim.

“I’m gonna have to leave for a little while.”

Din frowned, looking up from his book and tilting his head. Cobb stood in the library’s doorway, fidgeting with his sleeve. His eyes flashed back and forth between colors, and his wings twitched where they were folded against his back.

“Are you alright?” Din asked.

Cobb opened his mouth, then closed it. Took a deep breath and tried again.

“I...it’s a dragon thing. I, ah...” Cobb trailed off, his wings unfolding and wrapping around his torso.

Before Din could ask for more details, Cobb blurted out, “I’m going into my rut soon.”

“Your rut?” Din asked.

Cobb sighed, “Yeah, it’s a—I mean, it’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“So why do you need to leave then?”

Cobb tilted his head to the side, his horns catching the light coming through the window. Din was struck, not for the first time, by how beautiful Cobb was, no matter if he was in dragon-form or human-form.

“I’m gonna be perpetually turned on for a week. Among other things.”

Din shrugged, “I still don’t see why that means you have to leave.”

Cobb huffed, smoke curling from his mouth. He stalked forward, standing in front of Din and leaning down. A quiet growl was building in the back of his throat; no, not a growl, a _purr_.

“I have to leave, because otherwise I'm going to take you to bed and not let you up for a week,” Cobb husked. “I’m going to take you, and take you, and make you _mine_.”

Din swallowed down a groan, his hands gripping his book hard enough to make it creak. He quickly shut it and set it to the side, his hands finding Cobb’s waist instead.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Din asked.

“No, never,” Cobb immediately answered. “Not...intentionally, at least.”

Din tilted his head to the side in silent question.

“I’m going to get rough, probably. I’ll bite you a lot. You’ll probably end up with bruises. And there’s...” Cobb huffed again, turning his head away. “There’s also my—my knot.”

“Your knot?”

“Yeah, it’s—I mean, you know the basics of dragon anatomy, right?”

Din nodded.

“Well, you know what I’m talking about then.”

Din hummed, cupping Cobb’s cheek with one hand and turning him to face Din. His eyes were still shifting restlessly between colors, and Din leaned forward, kissing him softly.

“Anything else I should know ahead of time?”

Cobb sighed, ducking his head and nuzzling along the side of Din’s throat, scenting him.

“I’m going to get possessive. I’m not going to want anyone else near you for the entire time; not even Grogu.”

“Well, I figured we’d ask Cara to watch him during it anyway.”

“You...” Cobb raised his head, “you actually want me to stay, don’t you?”

“You haven’t said anything yet that I can’t handle—or that I wouldn’t like, for that matter,” Din admitted, heat climbing his cheeks.

Cobb swallowed, his eyes finally settling on a color—bright pink.

“That’s a new color,” Din murmured.

“Well I hope you like it, because you’re gonna be seeing it a whole lot soon enough.”

“Oh.”

Cobb chuckled as he leaned down, his fangs nipping at Din’s bottom lip as he kissed him. Din hummed into the kiss, his hands coming up and framing Cobb’s face.

“Do you want to help build our—uh, the den?”

Din looked up and had to stifle a chuckle. Cobb had an absurdly large bundle of fabric in his arms, blankets and pillows and what Din was fairly certain was his own cloak.

“Our den, huh?” Din couldn’t help but tease.

“I mean—it’s—”

Din grinned, stepping forward and relieving Cobb of part of his bundle, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“I’d be honored to help.”

Cobb smiled, his eyes flashing bright yellow and his wings fluttering against his back.

Cobb led them towards their bedroom, dumping his bundle on the ground. Din followed suit, staring at their bed. Cobb had already started building the den, pillows piled up against the head and footboard. He started rifling through the pile he had dumped at his feet, grabbing a couple of blankets and beginning to arrange them on the bed.

“What do you need me to do?” Din asked.

Cobb tilted his head, his eyes not leaving the bed.

“Start adding to it. Just—do whatever feels right.”

Din nodded, digging through his pile until he found what was, in fact, his cloak. He glanced over the bed, stepping around and tucking it in amongst the pillows at the headboard. Cobb purred, the sound surprising both of them if Cobb’s wide eyes were any indication.

“Sorry. I’ve never actually had anyone help me with this before,” Cobb muttered.

“Don’t apologize, I like it when you purr,” Din said, walking back around the bed to stand beside Cobb, kissing his cheek. The purring increased as Cobb turned his head to kiss Din on the lips, a hand finding its way to rest on Din’s butt, the other tangling in Din’s hair. It took only a few seconds for the kiss to become heated, Cobb twisting them until he had Din backed up against the bed.

“Cobb,” Din gasped.

Cobb grinned, leaving a trail of kisses down Din’s throat. The hand on Din’s butt moved, gliding around his hip and rubbing against his crotch instead.

“Want you,” Cobb growled.

“You have me. Always.”

Cobb snarled, his hand making quick work of Din’s pants. Din shivered at the sudden coolness of the air, then gasped as a hot hand wrapped around his half-hard cock.

“Beautiful,” Cobb whispered.

Din groaned, his hips bucking into Cobb’s hand. His own hands found their way to Cobb’s pants, fumbling with the ties as Cobb thumbed the head of his cock. He didn’t bother to lower his pants, instead sliding his hand under them—and pausing.

That was not a normal dick.

He pressed his hand flat against it, slowly dragging it up the length. Cobb groaned, throwing his head back. Din’s brow furrowed, and he repeated the motion. There were ridges along Cobb’s cock, his hand bumping over them as it moved. The head was different too, slightly more flared than normal. The whole of it was larger than normal, longer and thicker, and Din couldn’t help it as he scrambled to push Cobb’s pants over his hips, wanting to see what he was feeling.

It was just as impressive to see as it was to feel. Bright red scales traced the line of his hip bones, other palm-sized patches covering his thighs at random. Din smoothed his thumb over one as he sank to his knees, his mouth watering.

“Din,” Cobb growled.

Din looked up at him, grinned, and wrapped his lips around the head of his dick.

Cobb snarled, his hands grabbing the back of Din’s head and tangling in his hair. His hips stuttered as he fought not to thrust into Din’s mouth, his wings quivering against his back. Din moaned, sinking further down his length. His dick was heavy on his tongue, and the further down he went the wider it stretched his jaw open. He pressed his tongue against one of the ridges, and Cobb gasped. He took Cobb as far into his mouth as he could and then pulled back, pressing his tongue flat against his cock so it caught on every ridge.

“Din, fuck,” Cobb moaned, “your mouth is so good.”

Din hummed, spreading his legs wider as his free hand wrapped around his own dick. He moved his hand in time with the movements of his head, shivering as Cobb growled above him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Cobb asked, clearly not expecting an answer.

Din gave him one anyway, humming an affirmative around his mouthful. He looked up at Cobb through his eyelashes, pleased to see his eyes had turned bright pink. Cobb grinned down at him, and Din found his eyes drawn to the sharpness of his fangs.

One of the hands in his hair tugged sharply, and Din whined, his hips stuttering in his grasp. He closed his eyes, turning his full attention back to his mouthful. Precum leaked copiously from the tip, and Din pulled back to lap at it for a moment before swallowing Cobb down once more.

“Oh, darlin’, that’s it,” Cobb purred.

Din’s hand left Cobb’s thigh to wrap around the part of Cobb’s dick he couldn’t fit into his mouth. Cobb gasped, smoke and embers escaping his mouth. Precum was leaking even stronger now, filling Din’s mouth as fast as he could swallow it down. The hand around his own dick lost its rhythm, his hips bucking as he crept closer towards the end.

“Ah, Din, I’m getting close—”

The part of Cobb’s dick under Din’s hand began to swell, and it took Din’s pleasure scattered brain a second to realize that it was the knot Cobb had been telling him about. A rush of anticipation flooded through Din, and he moaned as he came, his hips spasming as he coated his hand and the floor with cum.

“Fuck, you look so good Din, I—can I cum on your face?”

The request had Din blinking up at Cobb through his haze. Pink eyes stared down at him, his face twisted in an expression between pleasure and pleading. Din pulled off Cobb’s dick, pressing a kiss to the tip and getting them coated in precum for the effort.

“Do it. Please, _cyar’ika_.”

Cobb came with a roar, his wings snapping out behind him. The first shot of cum landed across Din’s lips, and he stuck his tongue out to catch a taste. Cobb kept cumming, hissing and growling, his wings flexing and shivering behind him. Din closed his eyes as more cum landed on his face—and there was so much, far more than a human would ever produce.

Eventually it stopped, Cobb gasping and sinking to his knees in front of Din. He kissed him, uncaring for the mess on Din’s face.

“Damn it, Din, you— _zok lot umriidi. Zok brit kendaari.”_

Din wiped the mess away from his eyes and opened them to see Cobb staring at him, his eyes shifted from pink to a deep red.

“What—was that draconic?”

Cobb blinked, and a flush rose to cover his cheeks.

“Ah, yeah. Is that alright? I know it’s a pretty harsh sounding language.”

Din sighed, pressing a softer kiss to Cobb’s lips.

“Cobb, I love everything about you, the human and the dragon bits.”

Cobb smiled, relieved, his wings coming up to wrap around Din.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said after a moment, standing and holding his hand out for Din to take.

“What was it you said?” Din asked as he took Cobb’s hand and stood.

Cobb ducked his head, the flush returning to his cheeks.

“Z _ok lot umriidi_ is my greatest treasure _._ It’s the highest form of compliment a dragon can give. And _zok brit kendaari_ is my most beautiful knight _._ That one’s just from me.”

Din smiled, his heart melting.

 _“Cyar’ika,”_ he said, “is how my people say beloved.”

Cobb kissed him again.

Cobb’s rut officially started the next afternoon.

Din chuckled as Cobb took him by the hand and pulled him in the direction of their bedroom—of their den. They had finished it after getting Din cleaned up, and even though Din wasn’t draconic he still felt a certain pride when he looked at the carefully arranged mass of blankets and pillows that covered their bed.

A mass of blankets and pillows he was now being pushed onto, Cobb rubbing his face against his neck, his jaw—scenting Din as his own.

“Din... _onliini,_ ” he rumbled, pressing his lips against Din’s temple.

His hands snaked their way under Din’s shirt, pushing it up and over his head. He tossed it towards the end of the bed, another addition to the den. Din returned the favor, carefully removing Cobb’s shirt around his wings.

Cobb ducked his head down, licking a stripe along the line of Din’s right collarbone to his shoulder and scraping his teeth against Din’s trapezius. Din gasped as the sharp sting left behind by Cobb’s fangs was quickly soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

Cobb’s hands smoothed over his ribs, over his stomach and back up, settling on his chest. A thumb bumped against one of Din’s nipples, rubbing back and forth over it as Din shivered. Cobb was watching him with greedy eyes, his pupils huge against pink irises.

“Cobb,” Din gasped, “come here.”

Cobb obliged, his mouth hot against Din’s. Din wrapped his arms around his back, one rubbing the space between Cobb’s wings. Cobb purred against his lips, pressing back into his hand as his tongue slipped between Din’s lips. The frenzy Din expected wasn’t there; instead, Cobb seemed to be taking his time, relishing in each sensation.

The hand not working at Din’s nipple trailed lower, not stopping until it found his hip. He gripped it through Din’s pants, squeezing once before continuing on. It slid down Din’s thigh, wrapping around the back and lifting it up and out. Cobb scooted forward into the space he made, Din moving his other leg to give him even more room. Cobb hummed, squeezing the back of his thigh as he rocked their hips together. Din groaned, and Cobb left his mouth to pressing hot, biting kisses to his jaw.

“You make such lovely sounds, _kendaari,_ ” Cobb whispered. “I can’t wait to hear what others I can draw from you.”

“Cobb, _cyar’ika,_ ” Din muttered.

Cobb sighed, his mouth moving down Din’s jaw to his neck, his chest, until he was swiping his tongue over the nipple he wasn’t toying with. Din cried out, arching his back off the bed. Cobb’s hips rocked into him once more, the hard line of his cock brushing against Din’s through their pants. Din swore, his hands reaching down and working on the ties to their pants. Cobb chuckled and released his thigh to help him, shoving their pants down and kicking them the rest of the way off. Cobb wasted no time in resuming his rocking, the copious amounts of precum leaking from his tip easing the slide.

“Do you feel how wet you make me?” Cobb growled. “Do you feel how much I want you?”

“Yes,” Din panted, his hips rocking with Cobb’s on the next thrust.

Cobb snarled, surging up and sinking his teeth into Din’s trapezius where he had scraped his teeth earlier. Din keened, surprised by the sharp spike of pleasure that originated from the bite. Cobb released him and swiped his tongue over the wound left behind, a pleased rumble building in his chest.

“Gods above, Din, the things I want to do to you,” Cobb whispered, peppering kisses around the mark.

“Then do them,” Din pleaded.

Cobb groaned, his hand leaving Din’s chest to dig under the pillows at the head of the bed. Din captured his lips once more, tasting the traces of his own blood on his tongue. Cobb made a pleased hum as he found what he was searching for, pulling his hand back. Din caught a flash of glass and shivered in anticipation.

Cobb made quick work of uncorking the bottle, dribbling a healthy amount of the clear fluid onto his hand before recorking the bottle and tossing it to the end of the bed. His other hand rubbed along the inside of Din’s thigh, inching closer and closer to Din’s crotch but not touching. The first finger pressed against Din’s entrance as Cobb finally wrapped his hand around Din’s cock, Din throwing his head back against the pillows as he moaned. Cobb grinned, leaning down and kissing the inside of Din’s thigh, his fangs scrapping against the tender skin just to see Din jump.

 _“Ful brit,”_ Cobb whispered, moving his finger in and out of Din, the hand around his cock moving in tandem. He was quick to add second finger, watching as Din rocked against them.

“You feel wonderful around my fingers, Din,” he continued. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock. To see how well you take my knot.”

Din choked on his next moan, twisting his head to bury his face in the pillows. Cobb growled, releasing his dick and grabbing his jaw instead, turning him back to face Cobb.

“Don’t hide from me,” Cobb growled. “I want to see you, want to hear you.”

He punctuated the statement by adding a third finger, and Din writhed against the blankets. Cobb grinned, slinking down the bed and taking Din’s cock into his mouth. Din shouted as his orgasm rocketed through him without warning, stealing his breath with it. Cobb swallowed all of it, pulling off and lapping at the last little bit oozing from the head. Din panted and shivered, then keened as Cobb’s hand kept moving, three fingers working steadily in and out of him.

 _“Duliig,”_ Cobb purred, licking his lips.

“Cobb, Cobb, _gedet’ye,_ ” Din whined, burying a hand in Cobb’s hair, the other tangled in one of the blankets.

“Shh, I’ve got you. Just relax.”

Din couldn’t relax. Every nerve was alight, and he shouted wordlessly as Cobb added a fourth finger. Cobb rumbled, nuzzling against his throat and then kissing his cheek, his temple, finally landing on his lips. Din sobbed into the kiss, his hand leaving Cobb’s hair to grip his shoulder instead.

Cobb slowly pulled his fingers out, and Din gasped at the sudden emptiness he left behind. Cobb shushed him, reaching blindly for the bottle. He opened it once more, pouring more of its contents onto his hand before recorking it and tossing it back to the blankets. Din swallowed, spreading his legs wider as he watched Cobb spread the lube over his cock, mixing it with the precum dribbling down from the tip.

“Are you ready, _kendaari?_ ” Cobb asked, teasing the head of his cock against Din’s entrance.

“ _Gedet’ye, cyar’ika._ Please,” Din moaned.

Cobb purred, leaning down and nipping the skin over Din’s heart as he pushed in. Din whined; Cobb’s fingers had opened him up plenty but his cock was still huge as it pressed into him. Huge and _hot_ , blanking out Din’s mind as it pressed further and further in. He groaned as each ridge slid in, a sharp stretch that sent shocks of pleasure up his spine. Cobb groaned as he bottomed out, his wings trembling against his back as he bowed his head, resting his forehead against Din’s chest.

“You’re so _tight,_ ” he gasped. “Oh, Din, you’re wonderful.”

He ground his hips against Din, causing them both to moan. That was all it took; Cobb sat up, grabbing the back of each of Din’s thighs with one hand and pressing them back until Din’s legs were spread out, his knees almost parallel with his chest. He pulled out slowly, each ridge tugging at Din’s rim and making him gasp at each one. Cobb swore, pushing back in at a much faster pace. In and out, each time going a little faster until he was slamming into Din with each thrust, causing Din to gasp and whine and thrash against the blankets. He was getting hard again, his cock bouncing against his stomach with every thrust.

“That’s it,” Cobb snarled. “Look at you, at how well you take me.”

His wings snapped out behind him, flapping twice. Din moaned, reaching up and gripping the back of Cobb’s neck to yank him down into a kiss. It changed the angle of his thrusts and trapped Din’s cock between their bodies, and Din shouted into the kiss. Cobb groaned, his grip on Din’s thighs tightening. There was no way there wouldn’t be bruises, and Din found himself relishing in the thought.

Cobb’s thrusts faltered, and Din gasped as he felt the base of Cobb’s cock swell. It stretched him even wider than he already was, wider than he had ever been stretched before. He keened and shivered against the blankets. 

“Ah, Din, I—fuck,” Cobb moaned, grinding against Din’s hips. “Can you feel it? Feel my knot inside you, filling you up?”

“Cobb,” he whined, “please, I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me, Din. Cum on my knot, just like this.”

Din shook as he came again, his vision going white and cum coating his stomach. He was shouting, a wordless cry that made his ears ring—or maybe that was just the strength of his orgasm doing that. His vision came back in time for him to see Cobb’s wings stretch to their full span, quivering as Cobb roared and came. Din groaned as warmth flooded his insides—and it _kept going_ , Cobb twitching with each new wave of cum. Din had never felt so full before, between the knot and the sheer amount of cum inside of him.

“Are you alright?” Cobb asked as he came back to his senses, gently lowering Din’s legs to wrap around Cobb’s waist. His wings folded back against his back, still quivering.

“I’m,” Din cleared his throat, sore from all the noise he had made, “I’m good. I’m great, actually.”

Cobb grinned, rubbing his hands over Din’s hips. Din sighed, grinning back.

“Get down here and kiss me,” he said.

Cobb was all too happy to oblige, bracing himself on one forearm propped beside Din’s head. The kiss was slow, exhaustion and affection keeping them from anything more heated.

“So, how long are we…”

“Ten, fifteen minutes? Enough time for a nap.”

Din chuckled, moving with Cobb as he carefully rolled them onto their sides.

“I should have taken you from behind,” Cobb admitted. “Makes this part easier.”

“Why didn’t you then?”

Cobb hummed, his eyes turning red as he pressed another kiss to Din’s lips.

“I wanted to see your face.”

Din grinned, nuzzling his nose against Cobb’s.

“Well, we’ve got a week, right? Plenty of time to try out other positions.”

Cobb purred, tilting his head so that their foreheads rested together.

“Better get that nap in then—you’re in for a long week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a Translations  
> Cyar’ika - beloved, darling  
> Gedet’ye - please
> 
> Draconic Translations  
> Zok lot umriidi - my greatest treasure  
> Zok brit kendaari - my most beautiful knight  
> Onliini - my mate  
> Kendaari - my knight  
> Ful brit - so beautiful  
> Duliig - delicious


End file.
